The Hades Project
by Dan Ingram
Summary: The sequel to 'The Great Chase! A team of mercenaries is hired to infiltrate a refuge for super villains. Motivated by hate, greed or guilt, what could go wrong? Everything...
1. Chapter 1

"It's called Hell's Peak," Mr. Raven said, "it's a refuge for superhuman criminals or scum hiding from other scum. It's neutral turf and protection for anyone who can pay."

_General Tier stood in the center of his suite, surrounded by his bodyguards. They called themselves Hellhounds, and were werewolves who further enhanced their supernatural abilities with cybernetics. Their canine faces were illuminated by red eyes, and their claws were made of surgical steel._

"They just need money, it doesn't matter what kind of scum they are…"

_Steeltrap took the mutant growth hormone inhaler, and took a deep breath. He could feel the power flowing in his veins like molten steel. _

"_God," Steeltrap sighed, "if I knew the bitch could do this for me, I'd have turned her into product ages ago." _

_Cyber took the cigar from his lips, and smiled._

"_I like you. You look at me like you're not afraid for tomorrow. You'll learn."_

"As if that weren't bad enough, the owner also stores weapons for AIM, Hydra and countless others. Hell's Peak acts as a safety deposit box for weapons of mass destruction, organic or otherwise."

_Thrill Blade gaped at the…thing…bound in the sleek metal chair. He was only two sizes smaller than the Hulk, his wrists were covered in thorn-like protrusions, though that was the limit to what the young mercenary could see. The giant was bound in countless chains, and he doubted they were of regular steel._

"_What the hell is that thing?"_

"_That? That's what happens when RAID dabbles in genetics and doesn't want to throw away the results. Just keep your fingers away, kid." _

"I need to reach the top. And because of the defenses, I have to start at the bottom. That means I have to deal with seventy floors of super human criminals, terrorists and not even God himself knows what else."

_Hurricane brought his machete sweeping down. His enemy's skull exploded like an over-ripe grape. Blood and bone splattered across his arm, but Hurricane barely had time to notice. Because he was still surrounded by over three dozen men and women who had to kill him, if they wanted to survive._

_The Shroud struggled to move the arm as it pressed against his windpipe. The grip was stronger than steel, and already the Shroud could feel his mind slipping away. He threw his elbow into his attacker's side with enough force to shatter a normal man's ribs, but the grip around his throat only became stronger._

"_Just give up," his enemy said, his voice growing more and more distant, "dying here is easy."_

"On top of that, he employs four of the deadliest bodyguards in the world."

_Weapon Chi gave Warcry and Scorpion a look of cold, calculated murder. Her sais dripped blood, and she raced towards the women._

_Hrist swung her war-axe into the grey behemoth's chest. It sank at least five inches into the giant's chest._

_The giant reached down, and yanked the blood soaked weapon from his chest. He dropped it on the ground without ceremony, and pulled back a giant fist…_

"Even if things go according to plans, it'll still be a march through hell."

_Hurricane tossed the .50 Cal. to Hrist, and grabbed a pair of loaded shotguns. The two mercs took less than a second to find their target, and opened fire._

_Hurricane pumped his shotguns with each pull of the trigger, and if Hrist noticed the recoil of the .50, her body gave no indication. Bullet shells and death fell like rain._

_Thrill Blade saw the wave of teeth and claws charging at him, and smiled. He gripped his sword, and charged._

_A steel fist punched through the wall, and grabbed Hurricane by the throat. Before he even realized what had happened, Hurricane was pulled through the brick and mortar like a rag doll, and was thrown to the floor._

_Hurricane rolled to his feet, and only saw his cyborg enemy out of the corner of his eye. He raised his arms across his chest just split second before the metal-man's knee would have smashed into his chest._

_The sheer power was enough to pitch Hurricane through the air like a football, until a steel wall brought him to a crashing halt. The merc saw double, as his foe casually strolled over to him._

"_Just give up, man. Look at you! You're half dead already! Why not just give up?"_

_The marksman couldn't feel his legs. His arms felt as if they were on fire. Each and every breath brought only more pain. Hurricane took his combat knife from his shoulder holster, and assumed a fighting stance._

"_Because I ain't dead yet!" _

"Interested?"


	2. Chapter 1: Recruitment

_Project Hades_

_Issue 1_

_Gathering the Band_

_Detroit_

Hurricane wondered if bunking down with a prostitute constituted a whole new definition of 'laying low', even though he kept it strictly platonic.

It had been little over three weeks since he'd returned from South America, where along with several other mercenaries, Hurricane had extracted the son of a drug lord, spirited him across the country with a legion of criminals on their tail and delivered the boy to sanctuary.

It was, by far, the most dangerous mission of his life.

But in doing so, Hurricane knew that he'd made a legion of enemies. Colonel Condor had, if not friends, then at least allies and dependants. People who needed him if they wanted their businesses to run like a well oiled machine, and who weren't satisfied with the law to handle their vengeance and or, lost of revenue.

But Hurricane wasn't too worried. Criminals didn't hold grudges like that for long, and any bounty that lasted the next criminal fiscal quarter would amount to little more than bragging rights, a badge of honor.

But right now, Hurricane was 'hot' and he had to lie low.

To that end, he approached several prostitutes, and when he found one who rented a house and not an apartment, he offered her ten thousand on the spot. And since she had no known connection to him, her home was perfect to hide from criminals and law enforcement alike.

The woman's name was Daisy, and at first it seemed like the perfect arrangement. Daisy was being paid not to work the streets and could spend time with her son, and Hurricane didn't have to look over his shoulder, trying to figure out if anyone who crossed his path was law enforcement.

By the second day, Hurricane found himself so bored with day time television. So he went to the hardware store, and when Daisy returned from the park with her son, she found that the bathroom on the first floor had been retiled.

The arraignment was perfect. Until day eight, when Daisy's pimp showed up.

"Daisy! You lazy bitch! Get out here!"

Hurricane was in the second floor bathroom, fixing the sink, when he heard the shouting.

"Peter!" Hurricane could almost feel the fear in Daisy's voice, "I told you…my son's sick. I'll make it up to you, I swear!"

"I don't care if your boy is near death!" Peter shouted, "you work when I say you work!"

Hurricane heard the familiar sound of a body hitting the ground, and Daisy cried out.

Hurricane stomped down the hall, and stood at the top of the staircase.

"Is there a problem here?" Hurricane growled.

He was a little shocked to see that 'Peter' was actually a stocky woman, wearing a leather cut with tattoos running down both arms. She had a knife in one hand, and looked thirsty for blood.

"You the dick this bitch has been entertaining?" Peter growled.

Hurricane walked briskly down the stairs, doing his best to look non threatening. Given that he wore Goodwill bought cover-all's splattered with plaster, water and paint, he didn't have to try hard.

"I'm a family friend," Hurricane said, "if she owes you money, I'll pay."

Hurricane observed a small cut on Daisy's upper shoulder, but he kept his calm.

"…we don't want any trouble."

"So this bitch has been holding out of me," Peter pointed the knife at Hurricane's throat, "lets make a deal. Give me all your money, and maybe you don't walk away scarred for life."

Hurricane sighed.

"You're threatening me," Hurricane kept a steady pulse, "you need to stop. And please leave."

Peter pressed the knife harder against Hurricane's throat harder.

"Are you some kind of…", Peter's eyes went wide.

Hurricane slapped the knife from her hand, and grabbed her throat.

"You're…that guy!" Peter gasped, "they're looking for you!"

"You should have left when I gave you the chance," Hurricane's voice was solid steel. He dragged Peter to the first level bathroom, and held Peter in the tub, "any last words?"

Peter laughed, "They told us about you! You got a code! You won't kill me! I'm a woman!"

Hurricane chuckled darkly, "I do have a code. I call it the three Cs. No civilians, no collateral, and no cruelty. Now tell me…"

"…where does that say 'no women'?"

Peter's face paled.

-crak!-

Hurricane gently laid the body down. He dealt with death every day, but that was no reason not to be respectful.

"You…you killed her!" Daisy gasped.

Hurricane sighed. His 'perfect strategy' had just gone up in smoke.

"A pimp that wants more money is like a rabid dog," said Hurricane, "gotta be put down."

"You…killed her."

"I'll take care of the body," Hurricane said, "you should probably take your son to a movie and dinner. It'll be gone by the time you get back."

Daisy nodded numbly. She grabbed her keys, and all but ran to the door.

"Hey, Daisy…?" Hurricane called out, catching her just as she was about to leave.

"Yes…?" Daisy said timidly.

"Why was her name Peter?"

"You don't want to know," Daisy replied, and then rushed out the door.

"Son of a bitch…," Hurricane lowered his head, "…good while it lasted."

oooOOoo

Hurricane took a quick shower upstairs, no more than five minutes, and dressed.

He had a duffel bag full of his gear, and laid out his equipment. He dressed in brown cargo pants, and a standard issue army flak vest. He loaded a few grenades in his vest, a spare shotgun shells, and went to his handguns. He had two Glocks that he wore on both hips, and a shotgun he slipped into a holster on his back.

Next Hurricane took his machete, and wiped it down. He'd cleaned his weapons the second day of living here, so the blade literally gleamed. Made of vibranium, Hurricane had taken it off a man who tried to kill him and never once had it failed him. But a good soldier was kind to his weapons.

Hurricane slid a few spare clips into his cargo pants, along with some ball-bears and throwing knives and then packed the remaining weapons into his duffel bag.

Ready for war, Hurricane stepped into the backyard, and buried five thousand dollars wrapped in plastic. What was going to happen next was only barely her fault, after all and Hurricane prided himself on paying his debts.

Once that was done, Hurricane went inside, and sat by the door. He waited, and waited, and when the sun set, and when it did he went outside and sat on the porch.

"God damn, what is taking so long?" Hurricane grumbled, "never thought a black man would have to wait so long to be arrested for a crime he actually did commit!"

The mercenary expected Daisy to go straight to the cops, and frankly he couldn't blame her. There was both a dead body and a killer in her home, and he gave her an easy excuse. What sane person wouldn't run straight to the police?

But the wait was playing havoc with his nerves. His plan was to wait until the cops showed up, put up a fight (not kill anyone, but cops had good insurance), take the blame, and vanish. He had an exit strategy and everything.

But none of that meant a damn thing, if the cops didn't actually show up.

"…am not going to wait here all night," Hurricane muttered, as he pulled out an energy bar and began munching, "should just leave, call and confess."

That was when three vans pulled up, and squealed to a halt in the front of the house. But Hurricane's lip curled in disgust when he saw that they weren't SWAT vans.

At least a dozen and a half men piled out, each and everyone dressed like some costumed maniac, which, Hurricane supposed, they were.

"God damn it Daisy," Hurricane growled, "why'd you have to get greedy?"

"Greetings, Hurricane," said a man in a skull mask. He wore a cape, and a black mist swirled around him, "I am the King of Shadows. I have a proposition for you."

Hurricane raised an eyebrow, "The Shadow King?"

"No!" the man hissed, "King of Shadows!"

"Well, 'Shadow King'…"

"King of Shadows, King of Shadows!"

"This wouldn't happen if you chose a better name," observed a green haired man who stood behind the King.

"Leave it, Vektor!"

"…I'm not interesting in joining a team," Hurricane said, "I'm a man with standards, professional and operational. I doubt you meet them. So unless you're here to collect on the bounty, get the hell out of my sight."

"Lets not be hasty. I think our alliance of the elite would meet your standards without effort," said King of Shadows, "for instance, I'm well aware of your abilities. My jade friend here is a telekinetic. You're not fast enough to defy him."

"Is he fast enough to catch a bullet?"

"You better…"

-blam!-

Vektor shrieked as he stopped a bullet from Hurricane's Glock only a few inches from his skull.

"I'm impressed," Hurricane returned the weapon to his holster, and whipped out his shotgun, "lets try that again."

Hurricane squeezed the trigger twice, and two giant slugs went careening through the air. The first one struck the bullet from the Glock, driving it forward, and the third pushed the second. All three bullets smashed into Vektor's skull as one, exploding it like a rotten pumpkin.

"In his next life, your man shouldn't assume that everyone uses buckshot or that all bullets are the same," Hurricane said to King of Shadows. He whipped the smoking hot barrel of his shotgun to the side, and heard someone scream. Hurricane back-handed the man in the jaw, and leveled his eyes on King of Shadows, "also, your invisible man should step lighter."

"Calling yourself elite doesn't change shit," Hurricane said, "you're all idiots using stolen gears or powers you barely understand. That's not an issue I have. Right now? I can see a dozen ways out of this."

Hurricane pumped his shotgun.

"Get in my way, and I'll take the road paved with your bodies."

"Alliance of the elite!" King of Shadows sneered, but stepped back, "take him!"

The first man who came at Hurricane wore the flight-rig of The Vulture on his arms, and a cheap knock-off of Doctor Octopus' arms around his waist.

"You belong to the Bird of Prey!" he shouted. He swooped down, and entangled Hurricane in his tentacle. But when he tried to pull him into the air, nothing happened.

"You didn't think this through, did you?" Hurricane asked, as he took a firm grip on one of the arms.

"Oh no…"

Hurricane swung the man towards three of his associates on his left, bowling them over like ten-pins. He then snapped the arms like a whip, smashing Bird of Prey face first into the ground.

"He got off easy," Hurricane said, "next person who comes at me catches a bullet."

The next person who came at him was a woman wearing some sort of harness on her back that powered the giant gauntlets she wore on her wrists. She leveled one hand at Hurricane, and he replied with a bullet to the knee.

She doubled over in agony, and accidentally triggered the release on her gauntlets. They sent energy flooding out, where it smashed into the ground and the recoil sent her flying through the air like a bottle rocket.

A neighbor's tree was kind enough to stop her flight, but not catch her. She fell from branch to branch, and seemed to catch every large branch on her path down. Like a car wreck, no one, not Hurricane, the King of Shadows or her fellow teammates, could look away, no matter how much they wanted. Finally, she landed in a heap of limbs at all the wrong angles.

"Umm," Hurricane rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "that…that was an accident."

"Get him!" The King of Shadows snapped.

Hurricane's shotgun flared, and three more men went down. He broke off, and ran towards the backyard. He wasn't interested in a prolonged firefight, and there were enough corpses on the lawn for the cops not to hold Daisy responsible for the corpse in her bathroom.

Hurricane always tried to be a good guest.

He leapt the fence to the backyard…and found Daisy, standing in front of an eight foot muscle bound man, with a metal horn protruding from his forehead.

"…a unicorn theme?" Hurricane said, "really?"

"Give up," the giant wrapped his massive paw around Daisy's neck, "or the whore gets it!"

Hurricane grimaced. On the one hand, Daisy had betrayed him. But on the other, he'd wanted her to. He just wanted her to call the cops, not these thugs.

But she was still a civilian, in the end, and he had standards. Hurricane lowered his weapons.

"Thank you, Charger."

The King of Shadows willed his abilities out, ebony tentacles binding Hurricane in a grip that felt like steel. One wrapped itself around his throat, and Hurricane fought to breathe.

"You may dispose of the whore."

"No!"

Hurricane felt his consciousness fade, as he heard a neck snap.

oooOOoo

_Later, elsewhere_

"I just don't know why they aren't killing the bastard," Joe Public muttered.

"Because Kingy wants him as a point man," replied Joe Public. Gifted with the power of self multiplication after a lab accident that he'd caused with his own stupidity, 'Joe Public' always seemed to draw guard duty for the Alliance's 'compound' (which in reality was simply a defunct housing complex chosen because it somehow had street lighting and came with a lake for dumping bodies), "the bounties we'd get for his dead body would be peanuts compared to what we'd get if he was on our team."

"Guess with Suzi Cannon and the other guys out of it, that would mean more money for us," said Joe Public.

"See! Now you're thinking!"

"I don't know if that's what it could be called."

The two Joes turned their heads, and saw a woman approaching down the street.

She was Asian, little over five and a half feet tall, with a pony tail that went down to her hips. She wore a black cat suit, pistols on each hip, and throwing knives strapped to each thigh. Around her neck she wore a collar composed of several white whistles.

"Who're you?"

"Me?" the woman said. Joe Public thought he recognized her accent, but he couldn't tell from where, "I am called Warcry. And I'm here on a…I guess it is called a job interview?"

"Typical," Joe Public muttered, "no one tells me nothin'…"

"That's because," Warcry smiled, "you're part of the interview."

Warcry opened her mouth, and screamed.

A wave of sheer force struck Joe Public, and launched both of them through the air like leaves caught in blower. They landed half a block down the street, aching all over.

"Okay," Joe Public growled, "so it's like that? Get ready for a riot, lady!"

Where there was only two Joes before, Warcry saw a dozen more.

"Hello, gentlemen," Warcry said, "and good bye."

Warcry whistled softly, and Joe Public suddenly found himself too dizzy to stand. He struggled, adrenaline pumping in his veins, but his stomach strongly rebelled. He looked around, and saw that each of his clones was having the same problem.

Warcry closed her eyes, and drew her pistols. She pulled the triggers in rapid succession, and Joe Q watched in horror as clone after clone was mowed down. The shots were far from perfect, no shots in between the eyes, but not a single one missed.

Warcry stopped her whistling, just as her pistols ran dry.

"I've got to learn to do that with my eyes open," Warcry said. She looked at the host of bodies that were strewn out before her. Only three Joe Publics were left standing, and they regarded her with sheer horror.

"…how?" said one.

"I disrupted your inner ear with sonics," Warcry explained, "and I used that same sonic pulse as radar when I shot. I know about Florida, by the way."

Joe Public didn't think it was possible to feel even more terror, but he found he was wrong. He felt like a newborn mouse in the crosshairs of a lion.

"Do you know what a sonic resonance is?" Warcry asked, as she reached down to her necklace of whistles, and chose one.

Joe Public tried to run, but he was still too dizzy to make it more than a few feet.

"It's basically a shorthand term for how much sonic energy one thing can absorb, before it breaks," Warcry explained, "everything has its own different frequency. Like the human eye, for instance."

Warcry channeled her sonic abilities through the whistle, and every surviving Joe Public screamed. They felt their eyes shake in their skull, and it felt as if someone were rubbing glass inside of them.

As Warcry watched, the delicate organs shook, cracked and finally exploded like water balloons. Not a single Joe Public was spared.

"Now you know what a sonic resonance is."

Warcry tapped the radio in her ear.

"Guard is down. You guys encountering any trouble with the rest?"

oooOOoo

"You guys hear something?"

Charger turned the volume down on the television, and listened. Not that it was easy, in a house that had contained two dozen super-humans who wanted to party it up after a successful mission.

"I ain't hear nothin'," said Furnace Phil. He lit his cigar with a snap of his fingers, and then jumped like a spooked alley cat when the front door exploded inward.

"Mortals!" a dozen eyes fell upon the woman standing in the doorway. She was a tall redhead, wearing a sleeveless trenchcoat, a metal breastplate and blue jeans. She wore a patch over her right eye, and a pair of axes hung off her hips. On her right wrist was a modified foot trap, and looked like an alligator's jaw bent perfectly backwards.

"Prepare for battle!" Hrist shouted.

In the blink of an eye, a dozen different forms of energy beams slammed into the Asgardian Goddess, and seemed to leave nothing in its wake but smoke.

"Did we get her?"

"Ha!" Hrist leapt from the smoke, axe in one hand.

ooOOoo

_A few seconds later _

The criminal duo known as Hack and Slash, two moron brothers with the ability to turn their limbs into any sort of edged weapons, literally leapt through the wall of the house to get away from Hrist, but when they touched the grass, they found two people waiting for them.

The first was a young woman in a skin tight back suit, with a gray, ceramic like device that ran the length of her left arm. She wore a half mask that stopped at her nose, and her hair was grass green.

The second figure was a stocky young man, and both brothers did a double take.

The man looked as if he'd stepped out of 'Braveheart'. He wore blue face-paint, and wore a belted plaid shirt and kilt, kilt! that looked as if it belonged in another century. In his hand rested a claymore that looked freshly forged.

"You supposed to be Braveheart…Braveheart?" Hack chuckled despite himself.

The young man with the claymore smiled, "Name's Thrill Blade, the lass here is Scorpion…"

"…lass?" Scorpion muttered.

"…and those are the last two names you'll ever hear in your life," Thrill Blade said, "Scorpion, if I may?"

"Go ahead, feed your testosterone addiction," Scorpion said with a roll of her eyes.

"Come on!" Hack and Slash flexed their muscles, and their arms became bladed steel. Two more arms ripped from their sides, with just as many blades.

"Not feeling so cocky now, are ya?" said Hack.

"Yes, yes he is," Scorpion said, with a roll of her eyes.

Thrill Blade smirked as Hack and Slash came at him. Thrill Blade's sword seemed to shimmer, and he stepped forward into the attack.

Scorpion saw only a flash of blades, as Thrill Blade deflected every attack with a fluid grace that belied his bulk. When Hack tried to disembowel Thrill Blade, the mercenary swatted aside all the arms in a blur of motion, and when Slash came at Thrill Blade's unprotected back, Thrill Blade responded with a backhand that shattered the man's jaw.

"I know the odds aren't fair," Thrill Blade said, "only two of you and all, but that's life."

Hack and Slash trembled in fear, as they saw that Thrill Blade hadn't a single scratch on him.

"Scared? Afraid?" Thrill Blade smiled like the Cheshire Cat.

"For God's sake, Thrill Blade, stop being cruel," Scorpion said, "just end this already."

"Give me a few more minutes," Thrill Blade said, "my sword's barely charged."

"No," Scorpion raised her right hand, and a burst of green energy shot out, and struck Slash in the back of his head. His eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and he fell over.

Hack looked at his brother, and was horrified to see that his chest was barely rising.

"That pit of terror you're feeling? That's me," said Thrill Blade, "see, that's my sword. I can make you feel anything I want, fear, courage, anything. You're a puppet, and my magic sword pulls the strings."

"Thrill Blade," Scorpion sighed.

"Okay, okay," Thrill Blade swept his sword at Hack, and a wave of pure fear struck Hack. He only had enough time for all his past crimes to flash before his eyes, before he gripped his chest and fell over, dying from a heart attack.

"Such a buzz kill, you know that?" Thrill Blade said, "Mr. Raven was clear, no witnesses."

"That didn't mean you had to be an ass about it."

oooOOoo

Hurricane blinked, as his mental facilities slowly returned. He found himself chained, hands over his head, and stripped of his weapons. He glanced to his left, and saw his tools resting on a table just out of reach.

And of course, standing in front of him was the King of Shadows.

"Awake?" said The King.

"You should have killed me," Hurricane snapped.

"Those chains are indestructible," King of Shadows said, "so relax, we have much to discuss."

"The only thing we have to discuss is Daisy," Hurricane growled, "what happened there?"

"The whore?"

"Call her that again, and I'll pull your teeth out with my bare hands," Hurricane said.

"You killed her pimp. Her pimp answered to people," King of Shadows said, "those people knew of your recent activities, and contacted me."

Hurricane looked aside, ashamed, "So it was my fault."

"What does it matter?" King of Shadows said, "She's just a whore."

"So you want me to join or die, correct?" Hurricane said, "so what's to keep me from saying yes and just killing you?"

"The fact that I intend to stick a control disc on you," King of Shadows said, "but if you say yes, I'll consider taking it off one day."

"Good plan," Hurricane said, "but a better plan would have been mooring these indestructible chains in equally strong ."

Hurricane tore the chains from the ceiling, and slammed them down on the King's shoulder. He cried out as bone snapped.

"I made a promise," Hurricane reached down and plunged his hand into the King's mouth, and then pulled free a molar, "you may not be elite, Shadow King, but you're one of the few. Not many make me break my code."

Hurricane slammed his fist into the King's face.

"But I won't regret it one bit."

"My men…will kill you!" King of Shadows said.

"They don't even know I'm free," Hurricane smiled like a tiger, "you should be careful when you sound proof a room, even if it's for torture. Now, I'm going to take my time, and…"

"Excuse me…"

Hurricane turned his eyes to the door, and saw a man covered in all black, from head to toe, and wearing an equally black trench coat. He wore a vest that resembled the feathers of a bird if only made of steel, and wore goggles over his eyes that resembled that of an owl's.

Standing next to him was a man in a black cloak and hood, with an ebony mist swirling around his feet much like the King of Shadow's. The cloak cast a shadow over his face that seemed to defy the angle of the light.

"…are you busy?"

"You are?"

"Mr. Raven," said the man in the trench coat, "and my associate is The Shroud. You're a hard man to track down, and we need a moment of your time."

"Fools!" King of Shadows summoned the darkforce to him, "I'll…"

"Enough, amateur," The Shroud reached out with his own abilities, and cast the King's shadows aside as if they were paper, "the adults are speaking."

"I'm busy at the moment," said Hurricane.

"Fair enough," Mr. Raven removed his sidearm, and put six shots into the King of Shadow's skull. He met Hurricane's eyes, "what about now?"

Hurricane glanced aside at his weapons.

"Let me get dressed."

"Take your time," Mr. Raven said, "we'll be outside, destroying all evidence of our presence here."

oooOOoo

When Hurricane stepped outside, he was shocked to see the number of people waiting for him outside. They were illuminated by the fires that engulfed the entire complex.

"Hrist?" Hurricane look at the Goddess in shock, "good to see you again."

"You as well, mortal flea!" Hrist said. She held up the head of Charger, "I must apologize. I meant to leave this kill for you, but got carried away. Would you care for the head as way of apology?"

"…I'm good," Hurricane said, "so what's the job?"

"Would you care for the broad picture, or gritty details?" Mr. Raven said.

"Broad picture," Hurricane said.

"Heard of Hell's Peake?," Mr. Raven said.

"Refuge for criminals who can pay," said Hurricane, "probably got dozens of super scum bags in there."

"Hundreds," Mr. Raven said, "and we plan to kill the man at the top. Welcome aboard."

"That sounds like a mission a hundred times worse than my last one," Hurricane said, "what on earth makes you think I'd agree?"

"Come with me," Mr. Raven ushered Hurricane aside, and produced a picture.

Hurricane took one look at it, and felt his heart pounding in his ears.

"…this is impossible."

"Not exactly. But you see why I need you," Mr. Raven said, "in or out."

Hurricane handed the picture back to Mr. Raven.

"I'm in. Lets go commit suicide."

Next Issue: The Plan!


	3. Chapter 2: The Plan

**Marvel 2000 Presents**

**Project Hades**

**Issue 2**

**The Plan**

_Middle of nowhere_

The van pulled up late at night, and the mercenaries inside stepped out, eager to stretch their legs after over an hour of riding in a cramped van.

"I don't know why you mortals require any torture devises other than what you call traffic," Hrist grunted, "acid and knives pale in comparison."

"We like to spice things up on occasion," Warcry observed.

Hurricane looked around, instinctively taking in everything he could about everything around him. The nondescript airfield came as no surprise, really. Airfields in the middle of nowhere were to criminals what bus stops were to the law-biding.

But what did surprise Hurricane was the large hangar with the name of a delivery company Hurricane didn't recognize, with an Antonov An-225 Mriya, the world's largest cargo airplane resting inside of it.

Hurricane's hand floated towards his sidearm, and said, "This is a Shield op, isn't it?"

The eyes of everyone in the hangar turned towards Hurricane.

"No," Mr. Raven said, stepping forward, "it's mine. Shield is simply repaying me a favor."

Hurricane looked Mr. Raven up and down, trying to decide what to make of the man.

"Is that a problem?"

Like most everyone in his profession, he'd heard of Mr. Raven. Hell, everyone had. But everyone had heard something different.

Mr. Raven had the highest confirmed kill count of anyone who wasn't Bullseye or Sabretooth. Because when Mr. Raven said, 'never more', you were never more. Mr. Raven invaded Latveria, Mr. Raven was killed a dozen times, and not once.

Mr. Raven…the rumors and whispered that followed the man were impressive if they were even half true, and Hurricane wasn't eager to start an operation like this on his bad side.

Hurricane glanced at the other mercenaries without turning his head and moved his hand away from his sidearm, "Not yet."

"Good, happy to hear it," Mr. Raven said, with a face no betrayed little emotion, "everyone on the plane, now. This mission is time sensitive, and we've wasted enough already."

"Damn straight," Thrill Blade muttered, as he and the others entered the rear of the craft.

When Hurricane stepped inside the airplane, what he found looked like the set off of Star Trek. There were computer monitor's built into the walls, and in the middle of the hangar was a holographic display platform about the size of a pool table. Further back there was a partition where Hurricane suspected the sleeping cabins lay.

"I'll go get Jim," Scorpion said, "let him know that we're ready to go, and to begin the briefing."

"Make sure the file clerk hurries," Mr. Raven said, "I don't like waiting."

"Hurricane, it pleases to have you join us!" Hrist gave Hurricane a pat on the back that might have crippled a grizzly, "our last mission together wasn't nearly as harrowing as it should have been!"

"Agree to disagree," Hurricane muttered, his back stinging.

oooOOoo

Warcry watched the two mercenaries reminisce, and felt a pang of envy. Even if the two weren't close, at least they shared some fond memories. Warcry couldn't say that of anyone she worked with.

And, in the end, she didn't want to. Friendship, camaraderie, those things were a liability now, so close to the end of her mission. And if she had to step over the dead bodies of everyone in this plane, Warcry knew in her heart of hearts that she would.

Hell, She'd slit their throats herself, if she had to.

oooOOoo

"Hello, everyone," Thrill Blade glanced towards Scorpion as she returned, followed by a pudgy, middle aged man in a standard issue, blue Shield uniform, "my name's Jim Trask, and I'll be your guide on the journey to hell."

"Still can't believe we're answering to this loser," Thrill Blade muttered.

"Save it, Wallace," Jim Trask said, "I have three different doctorates, and more experience in counter intelligence in my left hand than you have in your whole head. If I have to get in the field, then we're in deep shit already. I may not be bad ass, but I know my business."

"Question," Hurricane raised his hand with a cheeky grin, "is this really an anti-mutant thing? Because I do have standards…"

"Does it matter?" Thrill Blade said.

"I do not share my family's extreme views on mutant human relations," Trask said, "I would say that I'm here as a Shield agent, nothing more, but as far Shield is concerned, I'm on a two week vacation, and this boat is parked in Virginia for repairs. Everything…and everyone here is off the books."

"Do we have your word that you're being straight with us?" said Hurricane.

"Enough," Mr. Raven growled, "every second we waste not preparing brings us closer to failure, and I will not tolerate that. Everyone here, is in. Otherwise, you're out. At three thousand feet and climbing."

A pause.

"Wait, we're in the air?" Thrill Blade said, "damn, this is one smooth ride. I may never fly commercial again."

"Given that you're a criminal, you probably shouldn't be flying commercial at all," Scorpion said.

"Are we done?" Trask said, "otherwise, lets start. Our target goes by the name Damian Dran, son of infamous Damon Dran, rightly known as the Indestructible Man. He's inherited his father's abilities and more, we believe."

"And how are we to kill a man who is indestructible?" said Warcry.

"I've an idea there," Hrist said, "with magic, there is always a way."

"I suspect that killing him will be the easy part. Our target rarely leaves his home slash business, Hell's Peak, located in a poor corrupt corner of an Asian dictatorship known as Sin-Cong."

Trask pressed a button, and holographic representation of Hell's Peak before them. The bottom stories resembled a square block, while off to one corner where were dozen stories that rose straight into the air like any other skyscraper.

"That thing won't win any beauty awards," Thrill Blade observed.

"Like they stuck a sky scraper on the pentagon and called it a day," Scorpion said.

"The owner, Damian Dran, went through a few contractors," Trask said, "the square is your basic accommodations, the spire is for wealthier clients. We estimate that there is at least a population of four hundred super criminals, and with that many egos, you need a lot of space.

"That population of criminals is half the defense for Hell's Peak. An attack on one is treated by an attack on all."

"More like an excuse to kick up shit," Hurricane said.

"That too," Trask said, "beyond that, he employs a small army of mercenaries with mild cyborg enhancements, nicknamed Piranhas. And on top of that, he employs four bodyguards slash trouble shooters slash peace keepers to keep his tenants in line. All very skilled, all very dangerous."

Trask brought of an image of a young man in a full black and grey body suit that revealed nothing other than a slit for the man's eyes, and a head of brown hair.

"This gentleman is Midnight. Former partner of Moon Knight turned cyborg slave. Dran keeps him in check with a pain devise located on his spine. He's well armed and damn competent in hand to hand combat."

"What, he's got a black belt?" Thrill Blade chuckled.

"No," Trask said, "he's fought off Moon Knight, Punisher and Spider-Man at the same time."

Hurricane whistled softly.

"He may not win any recognition contests, but underestimate him and you're dead."

Trask brought up another image, this time of a woman with raven hair.

"Now, this lady…"

"No need," Warcry said, "we all know who she is. Electra, one of the finest killers The Hand ever produced. How did Dran get her under his employ?"

"If you'd let me give my briefing?" Trask said. Warcry sneered, but said nothing, "for what it's worth, you should be right. That, at the very least, is Electra's body."

"Her soul has fled," Hrist said as she scrutinized the image, "tis but a shell."

"I can't speak to that, but she hasn't demonstrated any of her past personal knowledge," Trask said, "she's called Weapon Chi, now. Word is, Dran fished her out of the drink around Muir Island. She has mild cyborg enhancements, with all of Electra's skill, and none of her mercy. She's the ultimate weapon. Point, click and die. And it's Dran's finger on the trigger."

"This mission just gets better and better," Hurricane muttered.

Trask brought up the image of a bare-chested man, wearing jeans, standing about six feet tall, with taped hands and a bald except for a hair-knot that went down past his waist.

"This gentleman goes by the name Solution," Trask said, "all you need to know is that he's a gifted fighter, demonstrates mild super strength. Oh, and he can generate any power needed to counter any power."

"So he could create a flash if Batman over there came at him?" Thrill Blade snickered.

"If he did, I'd just beat him to death with my bare hands," Shroud said evenly, "what would happen if you lost your pig sticker?"

"I'd get by," Thrill Blade said confidently.

"Last, we have the weakest link, and our first target," Trask said, "he goes by the name of Mr. Gray."

Trask brought up an image.

"He's a Hulk," Warcry said.

"Cloned during the original's grey period," Trask said, "hence the name. He's not as strong as the original, but he's still strong enough."

"He's…a Hulk," Thrill Blade said.

"We have some special tools to deal with him," Trask said, "but our strategy demands that we take him off the board first before proceeding."

"He's a Hulk," Warcry said, this time with a little more emphasize.

"Yes, he's a Hulk!" Trask snapped, "whatever made you all think this mission would be easy?"

"Enough," Mr. Raven said, "yes, he's a Hulk, And we have equipment on board to kill him."

"Why not go after one of the others?" Thrill Blade said.

"Why Thrill Blade, scared?" Scorpion smirked.

"Just not suicidal," Thrill Blade replied, "the Hulk eats Avenger teams for lunch. Even if his knock off isn't that strong, he's still a damn Hulk!"

"We have to kill him first because his death will open up a two for two new people on Dran's payroll," Trask said, "more than that, Weapon Chi, Midnight and Solution rarely leave the compound at all. Mr. Grey leaves every other night around ten. Besides that, the others are too skilled. They might slip out of any ambush and warn Dran. We only have one chance at this, and one way or other we'll have to deal with him. So he goes first."

"No way we put down a Hulk silent like," Hurricane said, "it'll be noticed, no matter how good we are."

"Leave that to me, mortal," Hrist said, "I'll not let anything rob me of this battle."

"The plan after that is fairly straight forward. After we take Grey out of the picture, we'll insert Hurricane and Thrill Blade into his spot," Trask said, "Warcry? You'll be applying for asylum. Say that the Brazil job brought you too much heat. From there, we'll access and figure out our next move."

"What about Shroud too?" Thrill Blade suggested, "he's got enough enemies. He rips off criminals for a living!"

"I do," Shroud smiled, "and I happened to come into some of Dran's bank accounts. I don't think he'd be eager to take me in, and I really want that money."

"What about my…personal history?" Warcry said, "wouldn't Dran suspect me because of that?"

"He's nothing if not confident," Trask said, "he's kept all his tenants in line this long. Just stay calm, and things will be fine. This will only be recon."

"That is, if we manage to kill a Hulk first," Shroud offered.

"Yes, exactly, thank you," Jim growled.

"Not exactly what one would call an intricate plan," Thrill Blade observed.

"There are no wire drops or laser grids here," Mr. Raven said, "we work down and dirty, blood and mud. Without better intel, we have to adapt to the situation on the ground, then plan and overcome. That is how we will win. Now, everyone, get some food, get some rest. Hurricane, we have some special equipment for you that you should examine before we get there."

"One last thing," Trask brought up an image of a woman dressed in a business suit, mid thirties and with red hair.

Hurricane swallowed hard.

"This is Dran's personal assistant, Andi Hunter. She handles most of his day to day business. It is vital we capture her, alive. That's mission priority number one after killing Dran."

"That's how you'll sell this op back to Shield," Hurricane said, "isn't it? You give them her, and the intelligence they get lets them overlook this mission."

"Dran doesn't just trade in money," Scorpion said, "he trades in secrets as well. Anyone with juicy enough intel, he'll protect them, at least for a little bit. She guards those secrets."

"That makes her more valuable than gold," Trask said, "the good news is that she's also a coward. I don't predict much trouble capturing her. Any last questions?"

"Two."

"What's that?"

"As you know, me and Hrist recently extracted the son of a drug lord out of his father's territory and into asylum," said Hurricane, "why didn't he try to make it to Hell's Peak?"

"Elias screwed Dran over on a two million dollar deal a few months back," said Trask, "otherwise, he probably would have sent his men to collect him personally. Second?"

"Why?"

"Why."

Hurricane observed how Warcry, Thrill Blade and Hrist gave him a look of confusion.

"Why does Dran have to die?" Hurricane said, "as threats go, he's fairly passive. He protects criminals sure, but he's not trying to blow up city capitals, and he's not harboring Baron Strucker or anyone like that. So why this hit squad?"

"Does it matter?" Thrill Blade said.

"Does to me," Hurricane said, "I'm a killer, not a mass murderer. I'd like to know why I'm killing a guy."

"He crossed me," Mr. Raven said, "he took something from me. So I intend to take everything from him."

"More than that," Jim Trask said, "the powers that be fear he could become the next Dr. Doom. Like we said, he trades in favors and secrets, as well as money. He could send an army of villains against the Avengers with just a few calls, but everyone's also afraid to take a shot and miss."

"I hope vengeance isn't a problem for you?" said Warcry.

Hurricane averted his eyes from the holographic image of Hunter.

"No, no problem. Just wanted to know why everyone else is getting themselves killed, is all."

oooOOoo

_Later_

Hurricane opened the box of bullets marked 'Dangerous', and tested the weight of one in his hand. He flicked it into the air with his thumb, and watched it come down into his palm, timing it in his head.

"Please don't play with the adamantium bullets," Mr. Raven said, "you wouldn't believe how expensive they are."

"You wouldn't believe how useless they are," Hurricane replied, "they're jacketed well enough, but they're too heavy for a handgun to get good enough penetration for what we're hunting, and the tips are too blunt. I might as well be shooting wad cutters at Gray."

"The recoil on anything higher destroys the gun after two shots. I was told you were a marksman," Mr. Raven said, "with an arm like a hurricane, I believe they said. Make it work. If you want to live."

Mr. Raven turned on his heel, and left.

"What do you think his deal is?" Hurricane glanced over his shoulder, and saw Thrill Blade leaning against the work bench.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's his story?" Thrill Blade said, "I mean, he's got to be ex government of some kind. His fighting's too clean."

"Maybe," Hurricane casually unholstered his weapon, and handed it to Thrill Blade, "could you do me a favor? This keeps jamming, and I can't figure out what's going on. Could you take a look?"

"Sure," Thrill Blade ejected the clip, popped out the bullet in the chamber, and disassembled the gun with practiced ease. When it was in pieces, professionally disassembled on the workbench, Thrill Blade turned to Hurricane with a cocky grin, "looks fine, not that it was broken to begin with. Going to try to ambush me with a coffee cup, now mate?"

"I'm actually an espresso man, myself," Hurricane said, "so you're military, ex but not special forces. Thought so. I'm curious, why do you look like a blond Mel Gibson?"

Thrill Blade snorted, "Hey, it's a persona, man. You really think guys like Hrist or Thor are Gods? Bullshit, man, bullshit. And I've got Scottish roots, so why not?"

"So this is you selling yourself?"

"Pretty much."

"Better know your worth, then."

oooOOoo

_Elsewhere_

"Hrist, you okay?" Scorpion approached the Goddess as she stood at the back of the plane, with a dagger in one hand.

"Fine, stripling. Though I could use your assistance," Hrist handed Scorpion a glass bowl, "hold this, please."

"Why do I need…oh my God!"

Scorpion's eyes went wide as Hrist took the dagger to her wrist and dragged it lengthwise. Too stunned to move, Scorpion held the bowl as blood poured into it.

"My thanks, mortal," Hrist returned the dagger to her belt, and took the bowl from Scorpion. The wound had quickly sealed shut, "would hate to waste that."

"Why the hell did you do that?!" Scorpion demanded.

"Blood is a potent magical tool," Hrist said, "a Goddess' own, especially. For what Trask asks of me tomorrow, I need much."

"Any chance you could just teleport us in?" Scorpion said, "that'd save us all some trouble."

"Hmm, did Trask tell you to inquire?" Hrist raised an eyebrow, and smiled, "my magic is neither delicate nor stable. I am no Amora. If he would be willing to wait several of your months, I could craft something for him to breach the Tower's defenses. If not, our plan remains the same and what I've already prepared should be adequate."

"Was worth a shot," Scorpion said, "not all of us are looking forward to fighting through an army."

"Aye," Hrist said, "but some of us are."

oooOOoo

_Later _

The plane set down in an empty field that had been used by drug couriers before the CIA caught on, and Trask offered them their choices of sleeping arraignments. On the plane in a cramped bunk, or in the empty field with a standard issue sleeping bag and tent.

Hurricane took the tent. He wasn't sure he felt entirely comfortable sleeping in an enclosed space with several professional killers, and compared to Afghanistan this field was like a water mattress, and the edge of the tarmac a fluffy pillow.

Hurricane started to nod off, when he heard someone outside his tent. His hand went to his weapon before he realized that the footsteps were walking away from him.

Hurricane silently rose, and stuck his head outside his tent. About thirty yards away, he saw Scorpion strolling through the field, cigarette in one hand. He watched her for a moment, trying to judge if she was just on a walk about, or trying to slip away to betray them.

His fears were eased when Scorpion strolled back to the plane, and kicked up a tuff of dirt. She looked to be a bundle of nervous energy rather than anything devious.

Sighing, Hurricane stood up.

"Those things will kill you," Hurricane said.

"Actually, they won't," Scorpion said, "my body metabolizes all toxins into energy. Chemical weapons are little more than a snack."

"Actually, I was referring to the light giving you away in the dark," Hurricane said, "any sniper worth a damn could put a bullet through your skull. And the smell? Forget about sneaking up on anyone."

"I know how to stay downwind," Scorpion chuckled, "and no boy's complained about the smell before."

Hurricane observed how the cigarette shook in her hand.

"So what's your story?" Hurricane said, "Shroud? He wants money. Hrist and Thrill Blade want action, and it's personal for Warcry and Mr. Raven, that much is obvious. But what's your stake, kid? What's your story?"

"My story?" Scorpion blew out a plume of smoke, "not much to tell, just your average kid, bio-engineered by her mother to be the perfect bio-terrorist, who rebelled against the mom who made her."

"Sounds like a demented Lifetime story."

"Heh," Scorpion chuckled, "close. My mom, who runs her own AIM faction by the by, wanted me to be her right hand, but all I gave her was the finger. But Shield thinks otherwise, long story. I do this mission, and Mr. Raven says he can get me clear with them."

"Can he really do that?"

"Is now really the time to start questioning that?"

oooOOoo

_The next day_

_Mr. Grey has a fairly regular routine, and we'll use that against him._

Hurricane crouched behind the stone wall. The handgun with indestructible bullets was steady in his hand, and laying next to it was a .50 caliber anti-tank rifle and a white phosphorus grenade, his own modifications to Mr. Raven's plan. More out of habit than need, he practiced his breathing exercises to pass the time.

_He leaves the complex at five. The time he returns to base are erratic, so we're going to catch him on his way back. As luck would have it, he cuts through an old property that doubles as a junk yard. That's where we'll hit him._

Thrill Blade's hand shook as he waited. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself into battle, to let his weapon soar.

_Hrist will use her magic to contain the area, but all the same, the quicker we end this, the better. _

Hrist reached into her pocket, and removed a leather bound pouch. She unlaced the opening carefully, and poured the contents onto the ground. It spilled out like dust, and then, as if caught in some intangible wind, the dust began to snake away from Hrist and began circling the junkyard.

_Keep to the plan, use your numbers, and hold onto your butts. _

Warcry and Scorpion were standing behind an old rotted shack that had once been a tool shed, when they heard it.

The sound was like an approaching army, and the earth shook as it drew nearer.

Scorpion swallowed. The Shroud relaxed. Mr. Raven didn't react.

Hurricane saw Mr. Grey enter the junkyard. Mr. Grey had an army issue haircut, white tank top and camo-pants. His feet were bare, and he had a giant bowie knife in a sheath on his right hip. He was accompanied by two men, in black and grey combat vests, armed with automatics.

Mr. Gray was carrying a heavy gym bag in one giant mitt. The giant paused, and motioned for his men to stop. He set the gym bag on the ground, and took out his knife.

Hurricane cursed under his breath. He was confident that no one had given them away, but Mr. Grey seemed to sense the ambush all the same. To Hurricane, that meant the man had a high degree of experience, and an experienced Hulk was not something Hurricane looked forward to fighting.

"Irons? That you?" Mr. Grey looked about, "we had a deal, old man. I'm warning you, if you think you can snuff me, you better have at least two Butchers on a leash!"

Hurricane had no idea what Mr. Grey talking about, but he knew it wouldn't be long before someone's nerve broke, and this thing went down the toilet.

Hurricane picked up a rock, and tossed it at the rusted car that was three feet away from himself.

Mr. Grey was a seasoned pro, with brains to match his muscle. He (thought he) knew a feint when he heard one, and he looked away from Hurricane, looking anywhere except behind him for who might have thrown the rock.

Hurricane was as silent as the wind. He unsheathed his machete, and came at Mr. Grey's back. His weapon neatly severed Mr. Grey's tendons. Hurricane stepped back, and when the giant fell, Hurricane swung for the man's neck.

Mr. Grey caught the blade with his wrist. As thick as a tree trunk, the weapon barely sank in an inch before stopping.

Hurricane yanked the weapon free with all his strength, and leapt backwards, his machete slick with blood.

Mr. Grey hobbled to his feet, his tendons already healing. The two men at his side leveled their weapons at Hurricane.

"Hope there's more than you, son," Mr. Grey said, "because that isn't nearly enough to keep me down."

"I guess 'hope springs eternal' is ironic in this situation, huh?"

"Hey," Mr. Grey heard someone whisper, and turned his head.

Warcry smiled.

"…listen to this."

Warcry screamed, followed instantly by Mr. Grey.

The sonic energy didn't hit him so much as it traveled through him, like electricity through copper. His eardrums shook before exploded in white gore, his eyes rattled in their sockets and when it was over six seconds later, Mr. Grey felt as if he could feel his brain shaking in his skull. He dropped his blade and clutched his head, trying to keep the agony away.

In comparison, his men were lucky to be thrown half way across the junkyard, like leaves caught in a blower

Hurricane put two adamantium bullets in Mr. Grey's eyes.

"He's blind and deaf, people!" Hurricane snapped, "we'll never get a better shot!"

"I've got him!" Scorpion leapt on Mr. Grey's shoulders, and unleashed her venom blast point blank. She leapt away before Mr. Grey could swat her, and the beast roared.

"You…," Mr. Grey looked at them through new, bloodshot eyes, "are making me angry."

"That beast," Hrist charged, axe gleaming, "was our intention!"

Hrist swung her war-axe into the grey behemoth's chest. It sank in at least five inches into the giant's chest.

The giant reached down, and yanked the blood soaked weapon from his chest. He dropped it on the ground without ceremony, and pulled back a giant fist.

"Mission accomplished."

ooOOoo

"I'll finish the guards," Mr. Raven shouted. He didn't wait for a response before he took off after them.

Mr. Raven found the first laying over a car on his back. Warcry's sonic scream had thrown him perfectly into the old junker, and he was just barely hanging onto life.

Mr. Raven found the second man, his legs broken, crawling away on his stomach.

"That's far enough," Mr. Raven aimed his gun, and with one shot turned the man's automatic into scrap metal.

"Please!" the man turned over on his back, and raised his hands in surrender, "I have a family! Don't do this!"

Mr. Raven hesitated.

"Everyone has family," he said finally.

He put five bullets through the man's heart.

"Sometimes, that's the problem."

oooOOoo

"Down!" Hurricane tackled Mr. Grey at the knees, and his punch went wild, "teamwork, people!"

"Aye, teamwork," Hrist smirked, as she picked up her weapon, "that means both axes!"

Mr. Grey was about to slam his palm together, when a thick black cloud seemed to swallow his head whole.

"Blind and deaf again!" Shroud shouted. He stood a few yards away, "Hurricane, help Hrist! Warcry, ready another shot!"

Mr. Grey slammed his hands together, and the sonic clap felt like a bomb going off. Hrist and Hurricane stumbled backwards, but The Shroud took cover behind a rusted truck and through steel like discipline, kept the cloned beast's head encased in his ebony energy.

"Dark force, huh?" Mr. Grey was on his feet in seconds, "what's your reach like, hmm?"

Shroud observed Mr. Grey readying a giant leap, and he willed his energy away. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged into the air by the monster.

Mr. Grey snorted, "Thought so. Don't worry, I'll be back. With enough reinforcements to kill you, and every last ancestor."

Mr. Grey leapt into the air, but he never saw the axe coming. Hrist's personal axe struck him between the shoulder. She reached out to the mystic bond she had with her axe, and willed it to fall straight down.

The fact that the weapon was embedded in Mr. Grey's flesh was of little concern. Gamma flesh ripped and tore, and through the weapon came free, it had still stopped Mr. Grey's momentum, and he landed back in the junk yard in a heap.

Scorpion leapt across the tops of the totaled cars, and stopped behind Mr. Grey. She saw the long, bleeding gash, and aimed her right hand.

A blast of energy lanced forth, and struck the open wound. Mr. Grey threw his head back and screamed with such power and pain that every pane of glass in the junkyard shook.

Unsteady on his feet, Mr. Grey turned around, and looked at Scorpion with pure, all consuming hatred.

"Crap," Scorpion muttered. She saw Warcry at her six, and shouted to her, "need some cover fire!"

Scorpion's blood ran cold when Warcry shook her head, and silently stepped back.

"Oh you bitch…!"

Before Mr. Grey could lunge for Scorpion, Hrist's axe became lodged in his right shoulder.

"I will rip you each, limb from limb," Mr. Grey growled. He slowly turned around, and when he was looking right at Hrist, he flexed his massive shoulder, and popped the axe free as if it were a bar of soap, "Slowly. And when I'm done, just maybe I'll kill you."

Mr. Raven was at a distance, watching it all.

"I think he's ready for you now."

Thrill Blade let loose an animalistic cry of joy, and charged almost faster than Mr. Raven's eyes could follow.

Thrill Blade's teammates knew instinctively to get out of the way. Mr. Grey saw what he judged to be a madman racing at him, and swung a massive maw at Thrill Blade.

The young mercenary seemed to slide past, and skidded to a halt behind Mr. Grey.

"Oh man, I've always wanted to do that," Thrill Blade chuckled.

"Do what?" Mr. Grey said.

"That," Thrill Blade pointed his blade at Mr. Grey's waist. The gamma soldier looked down, and saw a spreading stain of blood across his hip. Mr. Grey's blood went cold when he realized he felt the pain starting at his front, but ending at his back.

"Lets go!"

Thrill Blade swung his sword again, carving another gash in Mr. Grey's stomach. Mr. Grey swept his hand at Thrill Blade's head, but the swordsman ducked effortlessly, and with a flick of his wrist, sent several of Mr. Grey's finger's flying free.

"What…the hell?" Hurricane said, as he seemed to watch the impossible.

The rookie wasn't just holding his own, it looked like he might actually win!

"Thrill Blade's sword can absorb and manipulate emotion, and can use it to empower its wielder," Mr. Raven said as he came up from behind Hurricane, "this Hulk here is like a buffet to that sword."

"So the angrier Hulk gets…"

"…the stronger Thrill Blade gets," Mr. Raven finished, "why else do you think I brought a neophyte aboard, his fashion sense?"

"Point," Hurricane said. He turned away from Mr. Raven, and made his way towards the weapons that he'd left behind, "Hrist, get ready. When Thrill Blade's out, it'll be up to us to finish this."

"What makes you think Thrill Blade won't finish this himself?" said Mr. Raven.

"Because I've met him."

oooOOoo

"Come on!" Thrill Blade brought his sword down on Mr. Grey's shoulder.

The pain was beyond description, but Mr. Grey had handled pain before. He snapped his head forward, head-butting Thrill Blade at least four yards backwards.

Thrill Blade saw stars, though he had no idea how lucky he was just to be alive.

Mr. Grey was about to move in for the kill, when an adamantium bullet struck him in the eye. Mr. Grey roared.

"I've only got so many bullets," Hurricane said to Hrist, "so throw that damn axe like you mean it, and lets finish this!"

"I thought you might enjoy a little more danger," Hrist smiled.

She threw her uru axe with all her Godly might, and this time when it struck Mr. Grey, it pierced up to the handle itself, cleaving his ribs, and splitting his heart like a melon.

Mr. Grey half roared, half gurgled even as his healing factor fought to repair the damage. Muscle and tissue reconnected, reforging and repairing itself, only it did so around the weapon. Mr. Grey tugged at the handle, but the agony that came with each beat of his heart was so staggering, he could barely touch it.

"Reel him in," Hurricane said, "but do it slow."

Hrist summoned her axe back to her, and Mr. Grey hadn't the strength or leverage to deny her.

In his right hand, Hurricane held the handgun Mr. Raven had given him, loaded with adamantium bullets. He took aim, and pulled the trigger.

The first bullet, though indestructible, didn't have the force to do much more than crack Mr. Grey's skull.

But the bullet behind it slammed it forward like a hammer, pushing the first in deeper, and the third pushed the first deeper still.

Each bullet struck the one before it precisely, and bored into Mr. Grey's skull like a slow drill.

It took a dozen bullets before the first one peaked out the back of Mr. Grey's head.

The clip ran dry, and Hurricane dropped the gun without ceremony, and raised the .50 caliber rifle, loaded with depleted uranium rounds. He pulled the trigger once.

The bullet that was sent forth was the size of a man's first, and struck the hole created by the first bullets perfectly. Mr. Grey's skull was still strong enough to slow the bullet considerably, but not stop it.

The round traveled the road its brother's paved perfectly, knocking them aside and further shredding the grey matter inside, before exploding out the back.

Mr. Grey slid to his knees, his eyes blank, but Hurricane wasn't done.

He took the white phosphorus grenade, and pulled the pin. He was half tempted to shout 'fire in the hole!', but it seemed especially tasteless at the moment.

He threw the grenade with laser like accuracy into the bloody hole in Mr. Grey's head, where it became wedged perfectly.

The explosion sounded like a small fire cracker. Even in death, Mr. Grey's skull was more than enough to contain a grenade that would have scorched a tank. His ears smoked, and his eyes glowed like a Halloween pumpkin, but still Hurricane turned to Hrist.

"Dead?"

"Dead," confirmed the Goddess.

"Wanted to make sure," Hurricane breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hmm, Hurricane smash," The Shroud deadpanned.

"That…was the best rush ever," Thrill Blade sighed.

"I cannot believe we survived," Warcry stated.

"Yeah, you were a real help there," Scorpion spat. The Shroud placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm the young woman, but she swatted it away.

"Excellent job, everyone," Mr. Raven said. He approached the now deceased Mr. Grey, and tapped him on the head. The man-monster fell forward like a limp doll, and sent up a small cloud of dust.

"Well," Mr. Raven said, "the easy part's over."

Next Issue: Infiltration!


	4. The Interview

**Marvel 2000 Presents**

**Project Hades**

**Issue 3**

**The Interview**

_Now_

"Yum, dark meat!"

Hurricane brought his machete up moments before the eight-foot, half Aligator, half man mercenary who called himself 'Overbite' barreled him over. The man-monster didn't appear to care that he was literally pushing against Hurricane's blade in attempt to eat him.

"Sorry," Hurricane flexed his muscles and pushed his machete outward, slicing Overbite in two, "I don't need boots that talk back."

oooOOoo

_Then_

Jerome Banks looked through the scope of his rifle, and breathed out.

He was high on a hill, overlooking a shitty little town in Afghanistan that, in Jerome's opinion, no one would have cared about if there wasn't a middle level insurgent with a gift for bombs who called the place home.

Jerome had the man in his sights, through the second floor window. The man was working on another bomb, another devise to kill American soldiers. Banks felt his blood boil even as he steadied his breath.

"This is bird's nest," he said over his radio, "I've got the target in my sights. Advise?"

"What's his status?" squawked the radio.

"Building death," Jerome replied, "I've a clear shot."

"Is it safe?"

Jerome observed a boson-burner, and from his vantage point he could see several barrels of chemicals across the room. They were unlabeled, but Jerome had enough experience to know what they contained.

"It's safe."

"Then proceed. Be mindful of civilians."

Jerome pulled the trigger twice. The first bullet smashed through the window and struck the bomber's hip, shattering it like glass. The second bullet struck the barrels, and the contents began to pour out on the floor.

"No easy out for you, asshole," Jerome muttered.

Less than ten seconds later, the building exploded in an orange ball of fire that shook the entire block.

"Hurricane!" Banks' radio shrieked, "what the hell was that? You said it was safe! There were civilians on that block!"

Banks stood up and marched into the woods, the heat of the flames washing over his back even from so far away.

"It was safe," Banks said, "I don't have a scratch."

oooOOooo

_Four hours before now _

"Okay, so we killed us a Hulk," Scorpion said, "now what?"

"Now, Hurricane and Thrill Blade are going to be at a certain location," Mr. Raven said, "Mr. Dran is pulling out an open call for muscle. If anyone asks, you received a ride from a Mr. Door. Teleporting travel agents aren't that uncommon in our profession."

"Why me and Thrill Blade?" Hurricane said, "wouldn't Hrist be better?"

"Hey!" Thrill Blade protested, "did you not just see me take on a Hulk?"

"I saw a rabid dog," Hurricane said, "I've worked with Hrist before, and I know what to expect from her."

"You honor me, mortal," Hrist said, "and I agree. Why am I to be denied this slaughter?"

Hurricane raised an eyebrow at the word 'slaughter'.

"Your little adventure in South America has made both of you rather infamous," Mr. Raven said, "should the two of you show up at the same place, Dran would be on guard."

"So I get saddled with the rookie," Hurricane said.

"Hey!" Thrill Blade said, "right here!"

Hurricane turned to Thrill Blade, and said, "Hello there, rookie. Looks like I'm saddled with you."

"Words can hurt, man."

"The rest of us will be observing and tipping things in your favor," Mr. Raven said, "we need to make sure that you get the job, and that won't be easy."

"So you guys'll have my back out there?" said Hurricane.

"As much as possible," Mr. Raven said, "which won't be nearly enough to save you if you don't watch your own back."

"We need to get a move on," Jim Trask said, "does everyone have their gear? Anyone need to use the can or anything else?"

"We're not ten years old," Scorpion said.

"I know. Ten year olds behave better." Said Trask.

"We're good," Warcry scratched an itch under her elbow and sneered, "shame we can't all stay safe here in the jet."

"Nowhere is safe for us, if this goes wrong," Mr. Raven said, "Hrist, if you would?"

"Of course," Hrist went to her work bench. She picked up what looked to be three blue orbs, with a swirling mist inside. Though Hurricane knew they looked to be paperweights, he knew instinctively that they contained powerful magics.

And when Hrist dropped one, Hurricane barely controlled his bowels.

A blue light washed over them, and for a moment, every mercenary felt light headed.

"Whoa, what was that…?" Thrill Blade shook his head, "and where can I get some more?"

"Sorry, mortal," Hrist said, "accident. Truly. But that's why I make spares, whenever possible."

"Didn't you use your own blood for those?" Scorpion said, "that's so gross…"

"Aye, but I always have a fresh stock," Hrist placed one orb in Hurricane's hand, "merely crush it, and you'll be taken to where you need to be."

"Teleported?"

"Aye."

"…I remember what happened the last time I did that with you," Hurricane said, "I've had flashbacks that were less horrifying."

"Mortals," Hrist huffed, "those norn stones were flawed, meant only for emergency use. These are of the finest quality. Well, for me"

"If you say so…"

"Well, Hurricane, you have a choice before you," Hrist said, "either trust me, or insult me."

"Tell me, which is more dangerous?"

Hurricane crushed the orb in his hand, and he and Thrill Blade vanished in a burst of purple light.

"Wise choice," Shroud muttered.

"Lets get moving," Mr. Raven said, "we'll only have a short amount of time to set up before the shit hits the fan."

oooOOoo

_Elsewhere_

When Hurricane opened his eyes, he and Thrill Blade found themselves in a wooded area, in the dead of night.

"I'd ask if we were in the right place, but since we didn't know where we were supposed to go…" Thrill Blade said.

"You learn to stop flapping your gums, and use your brain, you might make it in this business," Hurricane unsheathed his machete and began cutting through the thick underbrush that surrounded them. He had barely been at it for more than twenty seconds, when the brush fell away to reveal an old gravel road.

Hurricane turned his head north, and could see lights in the distance, as well as blaring music.

"That'll be our meet up point, I bet," Hurricane said, "give me ten minutes, then follow me in. Remember, you don't know me, so don't approach, wave or anything like that. Hell, just stay away from me until this is all over."

"You say that, but I can sense that you want to be friends," said Thrill Blade.

Hurricane mumbled under his breath and made his way down the gravel path.

What he found didn't much surprise him. There was a makeshift bar with plenty of drinks, music loud enough to strip the paint off a car and light polls that made the pitch black night as bright as a sunny day. Above the bar was a large banner that read 'Auditions!', and stationed on the outposts were several armored guards. They wore grey guardsmen suits, with modified blasters on their wrists. Hurricane recognized them instantly as Dran's elite guards, the Piranhas, meant to keep the rabble of Hell's Peak in line.

And who he saw didn't surprise Hurricane either.

It just terrified him.

There was a woman who wore nothing but a hooded cloak and barbed wire like it was a sweater. Hurricane saw a cyborg who's head was resting in his torso, and next to him was a skrull in his natural form, bare chested and his hands taped like that of a fighter's.

The former soldier looked around, and found that the only person he recognized was the English mercenary, Shockwave. That yellow suit was hard to miss, even in this crowd.

But beyond that, Hurricane saw no big names. Perhaps Dran didn't want to meet their salary demands, or didn't expect them to stay loyal slash employed for long. After all, once you had a name, you had a rep.

Hurricane could feel a dozen sets of eyes fall on him, and realized that here, now, he was a big name.

But he didn't let that fluster him. Instead, as more and more eyes fell upon him, Hurricane approached the bar, and took a seat.

" . .?" said the Bartender, half his face metal and circuit boards, " ? Scotch?"

"Water," Hurricane said.

"Water?"

"Water," Hurricane repeated.

"The big bad Hurricane drinking water?"

Hurricane didn't turn towards the speaker. Instead, he looked at the bartender.

"Give me a few large ice. I'm feeling brave today."

"Oooh! Look at you!"

The Bartender placed Hurricane's drink order in front of him, and only then did Hurricane look at the man who was standing next to him.

The man was thin, but lithe. He wore jeans and a sleeveless leather cut, and his arms were covered in tattoos, and his head was shaved into a buzz cut and dyed green.

"Have we met?" Hurricane said. He reached into his glass, and plucked an ice-cube out.

"They call me Razor," said the man, "maybe you've heard about me?"

"Nope," Hurricane squeezed the ice-cube in his hand.

Razor held his hand out with his fingers pointed to the sky, and Hurricane saw something glint in the light. He watched as what looked like green electricity traveled up a wire thinner than a single strand of hair.

"I've heard about you," Razor said, "you pull one high profile job and you think that makes you somethin', boy? What's so special about you?"

"I'm helpful."

"Help…"

Hurricane flicked his ice-cube at Razor, where it slid into his mouth, and half way down his throat perfectly.

The mercenary started coughing and wheezing, struggling to breathe. Hurricane swung his fist into the man's gut, dislodging the ice, and as Razor doubled over from the blow, his head smashed into the bar, and he fell back, unconscious.

"See?" Hurricane took a sip of his water, "helpful."

Hurricane glanced at the crowd that had gathered. Without a word said and denied a show, they began to go their separate ways. The guards came and dragged Razor's unconscious body away, mumbling something about 'too soon', and with that Hurricane was left alone with his water.

Hurricane thought about Thrill Blade, and envied the young man for a moment. It wasn't as if he had to deal with being infamous, or hell, recognized.

oooOOoo

_Ten minutes from now_

"Thrill Blade? Oh! My God!"

Thrill Blade had barely stepped foot into the gathering before he was tackled bodily. He felt metal arms wrap around his head, legs wrap around his waist, and most importantly, breasts pressed to his face.

"Alley-Cat," Thrill Blade mumbled, "nice to see you and the twins."

The woman who'd tackled him leapt off, and smiled. She wore a tank-top and the tightest shorts Thrill Blade had ever seen with a sleek, stainless steel belt that held a nine foot metal tail in the rear, while her arms were metal prosthetics. She had bright red hair, painted whisker marks on her face, and a warm smile.

Thrill Blade had pulled a job with her in France, and the young mercenary had gotten to know her fairly well.

"What are you doing here?" Thrill Blade said, "how're the kids?"

"They're fine," Alley-Cat said, "living with their aunt. I'm here the same reason you are, dope!"

"Really? You want to work security at some hell hole?" Thrill Blade said, without thinking.

"Hey, we're criminals," Alley-Cat replied, "not a lot of options out there if we want a steady pay check, ya know? It's just an interview, right?"

"…right," Thrill Blade felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, "just an interview."

oooOOoo

The Shroud glanced towards Mr. Raven. He and his fellow mercenaries were a few feet away from a very steep ledge. The location was isolated, in a country The Shroud didn't much care for and if they were attacked, they would have been boxed in effortlessly.

"Right location?"

Mr. Raven glanced up at the stars in the sky. The Shroud could hear something adjusting in the man's goggles.

"Right location," Mr. Raven confirmed, "Shroud, give us some cover."

The Shroud reached out with his abilities, and the five criminals and mercenaries were covered in a swirling black mist.

"Stay close," Shroud said, "I can't expand this too far, without becoming obvious."

"Worry not, mortal," Hrist said, "I've added my magic to your abilities. We'll not be seen unless we wish it."

"Good," Mr. Raven said, "Warcry, you're up. Scorpion, I need you to help her pick targets. Hrist, you and me are on overwatch, make sure no one sneaks up on us."

"If things go wrong, promise to at least not push me over the edge," Scorpion said.

"No promises," Warcry replied.

The two women crawled towards the edge, flat on their stomachs. Warcry pulled out her necklace of whistles, and went through them before finally stopping on one labeled 'LDB'.

"Question," Scorpion said, "what can you even do for our guys from up here?"

"I can literally whisper warnings in their ears, and make anyone I want dizzy," said Warcry, "it's not the same as bullet to the head, but better than nothing."

"So where are we anyways?" Scorpion said, as she looked down. The deep hole in the ground reminded her of a quarry, but there were old, rusted cars piled almost everywhere.

"A junkyard in Singapore," said Mr. Raven, "the owner usually hosts street fights. Dran tripled his usual fees for tonight."

"Hurricane is a hundred miles away!" Hrist said.

"Magic isn't the only way to teleport," Mr. Raven said, and as if on cue, there were several quick bursts of yellow light, and suddenly the cliff face was host to a dozen gray armored soldiers, including one not fifteen feet away.

Mr. Raven motioned for silence. Hrist and Scorpion made a face that said 'no shit'.

"This is post one, reporting in," radioed someone in the distance, "all clear."

Posts one through nine all reported an all clear. When it came time for post ten, the man closest to them, to call in his report, everyone save Hrist held their breath.

"This is post ten," he said, "all clear."

"Gotta love magic," Warcry muttered.

"Indeed," said Mr. Raven, "get ready, things are in motion."

oooOOoo

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome…"

Hurricane had just finished his water, when a hologram of Dran, flanked by his bodyguards Midnight, Solution and Weapon Chi, appeared above the gathering.

"The reason why you're all here, is because recently my family suffered a loss," said Dran, "my good, dear friend, Mr. Grey, was struck down. It's left a hole in my family, and just as important, in my business. You all come highly recommended, and that's why you're here tonight. If you'd bear with me for a moment…?"

Hurricane felt the familiar tell-tale tingle of teleportation, and he went from party to junkyard in the span of a second.

"Thank you. Because of the strength of Mr. Grey, I find that I need not one, but two replacements."

Hurricane glanced around, and came out with a headcount that easily peaked at three dozen. He glanced up at the quarry walls, and saw the guards with their weapons aimed down. Dran and his people were up there as well, their eyes on the make-shift arena.

"But only two."

Hurricane observed how everyone's attention was on Dran, and he began to shuffle away. If this was heading where he thought it was heading, Hurricane had little doubt that he'd be the first with a bullseye on his head.

"What the hell?" Hurricane saw a man with a lion's head and swords strapped to his back, protest, "that wasn't the deal!"

A second later, the man's head exploded in gore.

"It is now," Dran said, "I'd prefer two. But if I have to wipe you all out and start over, I will."

A tension hung in the air, because everyone realized what Hurricane had only a minute before everything exploded. With the men down here and the guards up there, they were in the perfect kill box. So he made his way around a pile of cars, out of sight of the main crowd, but before he could get too comfortable, he felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

"Going somewhere, lunch?" Overbite said.

oooOOoo

"Alley-Cat…"

Thrill Blade turned to his friend, to assure her that he would protect her.

But she's already on the ground, bleeding badly from a hole in her stomach.

"Oh God, no…" Thrill Blade was at her side in a second.

"Thrill Blade…," Alley-Cat coughed up blood, "t…tell me…"

Alley-Cat's last words were lost in a cough of blood, and her eyes rolled up towards the back of her head.

Something inside of Thrill Blade snapped. He saw a man with traces of silver in his skin charging him, and with a single swipe, Thrill Blade cut him in half.

Another half dozen men came at Thrill Blade, and he met them like a wave crashing onto the surf.

oooOOoo

A bullet ricocheted off the metal door a foot above Hurricane's head, and he snapped his head in the direction of the shot.

He saw one of the guards motion towards the fight with his rifle. Apparently his strategy of 'let them whittle each other down' wasn't appreciated.

_Fine_, Hurricane thought to himself. He was in a target rich environment, with no risk of collateral damage. If there was ever a time to cut loose, this was it.

Hurricane stepped out from his hiding spot, and walked straight into a man with snake-like skin, who likely had the same thought as him. With barely a thought, his hand went to his blade. Hurricane brought his machete sweeping down. His enemy's head exploded like an overripe grape. Blood and bone splattered across his arm, but Hurricane barely had time to notice. Because he was still surrounded by over three dozen men and women who had to kill him, if they wanted to survive.

He pulled his sidearm out with his left hand, and strolled across the field. He squeezed the trigger three times, and four men fell on the ground, dead.

That gained Hurricane some attention, but his pace never quickened. Acid, lightning and fire was cast his way, but Hurricane saw each person as they attacked. Their firing stance was quick and sloppy, and he knew, as a cold hard fact, that the only way they could hope to strike him was by pure luck.

So Hurricane reached his second target, an engine block, unscathed. He hooked his foot underneath it, and kicked it lightly into the air as if it were a soccer ball.

Hurricane pitched it towards the crowd of career mercenaries and felons, where it struck down a half dozen of them.

"Alright, a challenge!"

Hurricane watched as the crowd seemed to part for a giant of a man. Seven feet tall, his skin the texture of brick. His hands were coated in blood, but none of it his.

"No, it's not, Brik," Hurricane tightened his grip on his machete.

"Ha!" Brik swung his giant, blood soaked fist at Hurricane's head.

Hurricane's response was swift and precise. He swung his machete, cutting off Brik's hand at the wrist as it missed Hurricane's head, and then he brought his machete back in a downwards slice, cleanly cutting off Brik's leg at the knee.

Brik's mind had barely registered the pain as he fell backwards, as Hurricane pulled his weapon back, and lunged for the man's heart. He punched it through skin that could endure a tank-shell effortlessly, and with a twist, ended the fight.

Hurricane glanced up at the crowd, who'd just seen him end ten men.

"Oh shit," Hurricane muttered, as he realized he was a star in the worst way. He gripped his machete, still in Brik's body, and used it as a lever, bringing the man's corpse up as a shield just as over a half dozen men and women took up a proper firing stance, and let loose havoc.

oooOOoo

"…we have to do something," Scorpion said, "they'll kill him!"

"Can't," Warcry said bluntly, "everyone is watching too closely."

"He'll be killed!" Scorpion said.

"So will we if we give ourselves away," Mr. Raven said.

"Besides, he's not the only agent in play."

oooOOoo

The man who called himself Man-of-war had thought himself a genius.

He'd been a guard at one of Shield's man evidence holding facilities, when one day he'd just gotten tired of his boring life. So one day, he'd forged some transport papers, and left with an Ironmonger armor and a force field generator. A little tinkering, and he'd had an armor that was the toughest thing on the block.

Man-of-War had accomplished a dozen missions without breaking a sweat. And when Dran announced the conditions of his contest, he was still certain of his victory.

But then Thrill Blade came at him. His sword sliced through Man-of-War's force field effortlessly, and his blows bent steel.

Man-of-war released his bladder, as the fear inside of him grew, and Thrill Blade seemed only to grow stronger.

oooOOoo

Hurricane felt the onslaught of energy that had been keeping him pinned cease, and after a five count, he peaked his head over the top.

The men and women who'd been trying to kill him moments earlier were on the ground now. Standing over them was a man that Hurricane judged to be of European descent. He wore a simple suit, had a scar over his left eye and a grey beard and mustache.

At first, Hurricane couldn't tell how the man had killed them. He held his left hand out, but it was as if he had ribbons in place of fingers that led from his hands to the fallen bodies of his victims.

"I prefer quick," the man said. Mentally, Hurricane named the man Boris, "but to impress employers, I have to make a show of it."

Boris' fingers reappeared for a split second, before the thin ribbons Hurricane had seen before came rocketing towards him. Hurricane threw himself to the side, as the ribbons nicked his shoulder.

Hurricane rolled to his feet, and looked at the wound. It was, by far, the neatest cut he'd ever seen. Paper cuts weren't half a clean, but the pain was staggering.

"I would not advice moving, yes?"

Hurricane leapt aside again, as Boris' fingers missed him, but sliced through the rusted steel husks as if they were air.

"Same to you," Hurricane said. He whipped out his sidearm, and squeezed.

Boris saw the shots coming. He merely switched to his left, and seemed to disappear in thin air.

"Not even you can hit me if I do not wish to be," Boris said.

Hurricane said nothing, but he knew it was no ideal boast on Boris' part. Having seen his powers in action, Hurricane realized the man's power was to become two-dimensional. That enabled him to turn his fingers into blades that could slice through the very atoms of material.

Hurricane glanced to his left, and saw a car laying there, it's hood open and the engine and most other parts, completely intact.

That was the light bulb moment.

"I can hit any target I want, champ," Hurricane said. He squeezed off two shots, more to get Boris to back off than anything else, and sprinted for the car.

"Is futile!" Boris declared, as he strolled towards. Hurricane recognized that the man was showboating, just like he himself had been doing earlier.

"Irony is a bitch," the marksman muttered as he reached the car. He found what he was looking for, and turned to Boris, "you offered me mercy, now I'd like to offer the same. Stand down, and I'll make it quick."

"No," the man said simply.

"Then I'm very sorry," Hurricane picked up the car battery, and threw it at Boris.

Who, like Hurricane had anticipated, turned two-dimensional and turned aside.

But Hurricane had predicted perfectly where he'd be standing, and threw the car battery there.

Boris sliced the battery like a hot knife through butter, and the battery acid was smeared across his back and chest like suntan lotion.

Boris returned to his regular human shape, his skin bubbling and blistered, but as he sucked in air to scream, Hurricane put a bullet through his ear.

"I'm sorry," Hurricane muttered as he holstered his weapon. He still carried his machete in his other hand, but that was more caution than anything else.

He scanned the battlefield, now littered with bodies. Not everyone was dead, as he saw Shockwave huddled in a corner, his legs bent at the wrong angles, but as best he could tell, he and Thrill Blade were the only men left standing.

But when Hurricane looked closer at Thrill Blade, he almost wished they weren't.

Thrill Blade was standing over Man-of-War's armor, having cracked it open like a lobster. His hands were covered in motor-oil, and he was breathing so heavily Hurricane might have mistaken him for a horse.

Oh, and he was literally grinding the dead body of the man who'd been piloting the armor into a multi-colored paste.

"Hey kid," Hurricane called out, "it's over. Last men standing."

"Over?" Thrill Blade said, spittle flying from his mouth. He turned towards Hurricane, and both men instinctively grabbed their blades tighter, "it's never over!"

Thrill Blade leapt towards Hurricane, and the mercenary barely brought his machete up in time to keep his head.

The sheer force drove Hurricane to the ground, Thrill Blade standing over him, pushing his sword towards Hurricane's skull. Hurricane, struggled to hold his machete in place, even with all his strength.

Warcry and Scorpion watched it all from above, horrified.

"Oh, this may be a problem," Warcry observed.

Next Issue: Our mercs are in! Trouble, that is…


	5. The Inspection

**Marvel 2000 Presents**

**Project Hades**

**Issue 4**

**The Inspection**

_Asia_

"Kid, snap out of it!"

The mercenary known as Thrill Blade pressed his mystical weapon closer and closer to Hurricane's skull, even as the super strong mercenary struggled to stop him. His machete, made entirely of vibranium, was strong enough to avoid being cut in half by the magic blade, but that was where his luck ended.

Hurricane's mind raced as he struggled to think of a way out of this. If he tried to invoke their shared mission, he'd still die, just later. If his teammates could have done anything, they would have. So that left him all alone, with a man he'd seen take on a Hulk one on one.

"Alright, enough," a hand slapped down on Thrill Blade's shoulder, and effortless tossed Thrill Blade aside, "fight's over, kid."

Hurricane looked up, and saw Dran's bodyguard, the man who called himself The Solution, standing over him.

"Congrats," the man offered Hurricane his hand. The man known as The Solution smirked at Hurricane, "you're still alive. I guess that means you're my new co worker."

Hurricane took the man's hand, and stood up. He brushed the dirt from his shoulders, "Looks like it. Hell of a first day."

"Well," Solution chuckled, "if we're being honest, this is just the interview being over."

"It's not over…" Thrill Blade stood up, trembling with rage, "…until I say it's over."

"Then you better speak up, son," Solution said.

Thrill Blade lunged for Solution, but the man caught the mystic blade in one hand, the same one that removed several fingers from a Hulk, and only seemed to wince.

"Magic," the Solution sighed, as his hand began to bleed just a little, "always a little tricky."

The Solution yanked Thrill Blade's sword from his hand, and then mule kicked hm in the stomach with such force that Thrill Blade was pitched into a car some ten feet away with enough force to crumple it inwards.

"You want me to finish the job, punk?" Solution said, still holding Thrill Blade's sword by the blade, "because without this pig sticker, you're not even a road bump to me."

"That's enough," said a new voice.

Hurricane turned his head, and saw Damien Dran approach. He was flanked by Weapon Chi, and Midnight. Hurricane studied the two cyborgs for a moment, and realized that they couldn't have been more different.

Midnight radiated anger and contempt. He was little more than a dog on a leash, he knew it and made no attempts to hide it.

Weapon Chi, on the other hand, was pure calm and complete indifference. She seemed to register absolutely nothing on an emotional level, but everything on a tactical level. Hurricane understood what Hrist meant when she described the women as a shell, because to him, she barely registered as a person.

Just looking at her, he could almost feel the complete absence that was the sum of her person.

"I understand how the surge of adrenaline can be…intoxicating, after a battle," Dran said, "and for that, Thrill Blade, I'll forgive this attack. But only you stand down, right now."

Hurricane held his breath. If Thrill Blade decided to keep fighting, and everything Hurricane had seen of the man up until now indicated he would do just that, Hurricane wouldn't be able to do anything but watch him die.

"What say you?"

Thrill Blade met Dran's eyes…and then he took a deep breath.

"I'm good," Thrill Blade motioned to his sword, and it flew from The Solution's hand and into his. He pointed his blade towards Alley-Cat's corpse, where it lay in a puddle of blood.

"She was a friend of mine," Thrill Blade said, "and if you're planning on leaving her to rot, or worse, we'll have a problem again."

Solution and Dran exchanged a glance.

"Look, kid…," Solution started.

"I have a contact in Shield," Dran said, "I can have him here inside of fifteen minutes, and have her body home inside of twenty four hours. I'll even throw in money for her burial, anonymously, of course."

Thrill Blade almost did a double take.

"You'd do that?"

Dran shrugged, "Ours is a cut throat business, but I don't see why we can't remember our humanity, our family, at times. Think of it as a signing bonus and apology, if you'd like."

"I will," Thrill Blade sheathed his sword, and forced the next words from his mouth, "thank you."

"And you, Hurricane isn't it?" Dran said, "anything you would care to address at the moment?"

"Just that I want my signing bonus in cash," Hurricane said.

"Of course," Dran said, "but before we discuss business, Hurricane, there's something I'd like you to take care of."

Hurricane felt a shiver down his spine.

"What's that?"

Dran pointed north, to where Shockwave lay on the ground, mulling pathetically. Half the glass protecting his face was gone, his legs were a twisted wreck but he still held on to life.

"I need you to kill that man. Up close, and personal. Look him in the eye, and end him."

Hurricane glanced looked at Shockwave, and then at Dran.

"Okay."

Hurricane pulled his sidearm, and was about to take the shot, when Solution grabbed his wrist.

"Didn't you hear the boss?" Solution said.

"I did, but I have a code," Hurricane looked Solution in the eye, and then Dran, "the three Cs. No civilians, no collateral and no cruelty. And if you know my rep, or hell, were watching just now, you'd know I'm not squeamish."

"Indeed," said Dran, "I admire a man with a code, and in the future, I will strive to ensure that you do not violate it while under my employ."

Dran then narrowed his eyes.

"In the future. In the here and now, you are to kill that man. Up close, and personal. Unless you'd care to see how expensive your code can really be."

Hurricane gritted his teeth. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was Dran flexing his muscle, making him break his code as a way of flexing his muscle.

And as much as Hurricane wanted to keep to his code, he knew that failure on this mission wasn't an option.

"Fine."

Hurricane walked over to Shockwave at a casual pace. Hurricane could feel Dran studying him, evaluating him, seeing how he handled this kind of kill. It was one thing to kill in the heat of battle. It was something else entirely to kill in cold blood.

But Hurricane had done both.

"Mio dios," Shockwave mumbled. His face plate was shattered, revealing a young Hispanic man who couldn't have been a day over twenty, "please man, don't do this!"

Hurricane pulled his sidearm, and for a moment, his fingers trembled.

"Please, I have family! I'll do any…"

The shot went through the man's mouth, and severed the spine. Death was instantaneous, and the mortician could hide it easily enough for an open casket funeral.

"Guess you don't care for imposters, huh?" Hurricane holstered his weapon, and turned to Dran.

Hurricane didn't know the whole story, but he knew enough to piece it together. Some criminal martial artist, trying to ride off of another villain's rep using bootleg equipment. Small story, barely worth caring about. But Dran did.

"I run a dangerous business, so I demand at least a certain level of honesty, even if I work with criminals," Dran said, "that little shit is lucky that I want to get home as soon as possible. Now, gentlemen, step forward, if you please. You would not believe how expensive it is to use a teleporter, and I think we'd all agree that we don't want any accidents."

oooOOoo

"…they're in," Warcry said. She watched as Hurricane, Thrill Blade and the rest disappeared into the same teleportational effect that whisked away the men that Dran had set on the perimeter.

"Thank God," Scorpion sighed, as she released a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding until then. She stood up and cracked her back, "you know, you were pretty damn useless there. Did you even use your powers once?"

"I never had an opening," Warcry growled, "and if they even got a whiff of us here, the mission would be over before it started!"

"Enough," Mr. Raven stepped in between the women, "we have our people inside. That's all we need."

"Speak for yourself, mortal," Hrist said as she cast her eyes down on the slaughter below, "all the glory, all that blood missed…this was not what I was promised."

"You'll have your blood, count on it," Mr. Raven said, "before this is done, we'll all have our fill."

"Now that we have Hurricane and Thrill Blade inside, how long until we move onto phase three?" said Shroud.

"Tomorrow," Mr. Raven said.

"Tomorrow?" Shroud said, "You have to be kidding."

"Yes. Because that's what I do," said Mr. Raven, "I kid, I joke. I even perform at parties. Tomorrow. Get used to it."

"This is moving way too fast, Raven. The quicker we move, the greater the chance we make a mistake, and the bigger the chance of this entire thing going off the rails!"

"If you want to jump off, now's the time," said Mr. Raven, "otherwise, just shut up and hold on. That goes for everyone here."

"You couldn't force me off," Warcry said.

"That's good, because if Hurricane and Thrill Blade survive the night, you're up next."

oooOOoo

_Hell's Peak_

The door slid open, and The Solution motioned for Hurricane to step inside.

"Welcome to your new home," Solution said.

The room reminded Hurricane of a hotel room. One queen sized bed, an average TV, an adjacent room with shower and toilet and a few assorted nit-nacks to give the illusion of comfort.

"Jiggity jig," Hurricane said, "this is a joke, right? How you guys punk the new kid? This is a shoe box."

The Solution shrugged, "Not like this is the Hotel Six, buddy. Dran wants to put you through the hoops before you get too comfortable. Don't worry, you last a week? You'll have an apartment that puts Tony Stark's to shame."

"Speaking of comfort, I could use a change of clothes," Hurricane said. He glanced down at the blood that stained his uniform, "I spilled a little juice on this one."

"You can take care of that here, actually," The Solution went to the closet, and pulled the door back, "give me your machete."

"You break it…" Hurricane said, as he drew the blood stained weapon, and handed it to Solution.

"Whatever," Solution dropped the weapon in the closest, and closed the door.

"So…now what?"

The Solution opened the door, and Hurricane's machete lay there, pristine perfect.

"…okay, I'm impressed," Hurricane said.

"Put your clothes in one at a time," Solution said, "just don't step inside yourself."

"Why, horrible death?"

The Solution looked at Hurricane the way a parent looks at a toddler.

"The same reason you don't put metal in a microwave, you'd break it. Idiot."

"Oh."

"Anyways, try to get some sleep," Solution said, "use the phone by the bed to order any food you want. Dran'll let you start late tomorrow, but don't think that means it'll be easy."

"I've never needed easy before," Hurricane said, "you saw that today."

"Heh, that?" Solution chuckled, "this is Hell's Peak, son. You just survived day one. You can brag when you get to week two."

The moment the Solution left, Hurricane flopped on the bed, too tired to even climb under the sheets.

The battle was exhausting, and the fear, the fear that he didn't dare allow the outside world to see, that followed when it finished was twice as draining. Even now, he was certain that Dran was running every scan he could, trying to determine if Hurricane was some enemy plant or Shield agent, sent here to assassinate him.

And seeing as he was an enemy agent, sent to do exactly that, Hurricane hardly felt any safer here at opposed to on the battlefield.

Because here, Dran could kill him twice as easily. His room could be rigged with explosives. Mustard gas could be in the vents. There could be an entire battalion of super powers sociopaths one foot away from his door, and he couldn't know until he was choking on his own blood.

And on that bright thought, Hurricane heard a knock at his door

Hurricane picked up his machete, the light reflecting off it's clean form perfectly, and stalked to the door.

He knew Dran had to be watching. He knew that literally anything could be behind the door.

So instead of swinging the door open and brandishing his blade, he opened the door, and held the machete in a reverse grip, hiding it from sight behind the muscle of his arm.

"Hey…whoa!"

The man had a Confederate flag tattooed across a chest that would have shamed any body builder, and a set of Glocks resting on his hips.

"You're not the chick that lives here…," the man said dimly.

"No, I'm not," Hurricane said.

"Well, do you know…"

Hurricane slammed the door shut, and rolled his eyes.

He tossed his machete underhanded, and it landed at the foot of the bed, where the metal sank several inches into the ground. Hurricane then flopped down on the bed. Whether he passed Dran's test or not, he simply no longer cared.

Exhaustion claimed him within minutes.

oooOOoo

One floor below him, Thrill Blade sat on the edge of his blade, his weapon resting on the floor.

He stared at the mystic blade, and for the first time in his short career, wondered what the true cost of carrying this blade was.

oooOOoo

_Elsewhere_

"…he's safe," Jim Trask said.

He was in the center of the plane, with Scorpion and Warcry standing over his shoulder. Shroud and Mr. Raven stood off to the side, while no one knew where Hrist had wandered off to.

"Are you sure?" Scorpion said.

"…best we can tell," Jim said, "I'm hacking into Shield passive scanner fields. If Hurricane or Thrill Blade ran into trouble, I think we'd have heard something."

"Or they're already dead and we're walking into a trap," said Shroud, "we have as much information either way."

"True, but that won't stop me," Mr. Raven said, "Warcry, you have the coordinates for the meet?"

"Memorized," Warcry said.

"Then go," Mr. Raven said, "find a place nearby, and hole up. Start scoping the meeting are at least two hours before the designated meeting time."

"I know how to handle a meet," Warcry growled.

"You don't want them thinking you're eager to get inside," Mr. Raven said, "you want them thinking that you're being careful, because there is a million dollar bounty on your head. Because there is."

Warcry raised an eyebrow, "There is? Since when?"

"I put a bounty on you the moment you agreed to the mission," Mr. Raven stated, matter of factly.

"Wait, what? You must be joking!" Scorpion said, "you put a hit out on one of your own people?!"

"I'm with the kid," said The Shroud, "a bounty is a little too far for God damn method acting."

"Hey white knights," Warcry said, "I, the bounty? Don't give a shit. Whatever it takes."

Scorpion shook her head, "Fine, whatever. Excuse me for expecting some basic decency around here."

"Look who you're surrounded by, kid," Warcry said, "the best of us are a criminal who thinks because he robs other criminals he's not a scum bag…"

The Shroud's cape rippled.

"…an overweight Shield agent with a checkered family history…"

"Hey!" Jim said, "I'm only seven pounds over my target weight!"

"And…Mr. Raven," Warcry said, "a man who's survived death so many times I doubt he even gets the concept anymore."

"Done being cute?" said Mr. Raven, "because it's not as if we're undertaking a dangerous mission here."

"I'm going," Warcry said, "I just wanted to make sure little miss heroine here know what kind of people she was dealing with. Wouldn't want any surprises once we're inside."

When Warcry left, Mr. Raven turned to Shroud.

"You take first watch. I'll be in my cabin."

Shroud nodded to Scorpion, and stepped outside.

"So, you're an intelligence analyst," Scorpion said to Jim Trask, "does that mean you know what the deal with Mr. Raven is?"

"What do you mean, 'the deal'?" Trask replied.

"My contact told me to trust this, but like absolutely nothing else," said Scorpion, "all I've heard is the same rumors everyone else has."

Jim shrugged, "I'm in the same boat, kid. Could be anyone under that mask. For all I know, it could be Deadpool."

Scorpion raised an eyebrow, "Deadpool? Really?"

Jim shrugged, "Hey, who knows who could be underneath that mask?"

oooOOoo

_Next day_

Hurricane heard his alarm go off (even though he hadn't programmed it), and dragged himself out of bed. He showered and was dressed in record time. He'd just holstered his guns, when he heard a knock at the door.

"Hey, new meat," Hurricane recognized the voice as belonging to The Solution, "you decent?"

Hurricane opened the door, in full uniform, "I'm always decent. Do we got time to get breakfast before we meet the boss?"

The Solution shrugged, "Why not do both?"

"Really?"

"Why not," said The Solution, "breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all."

Hurricane followed Solution through the complex, and as they went, Hurricane spotted two men he knew to be on Interpol's most wanted list, several men wearing AIM uniforms, four Kree, six Skrull and even a few Altanteans, all before they reached the elevator.

"Diverse group of people you've got here," said Hurricane.

"Yeah, we won a few affirmative action awards," Solution typed in a code into the elevator, "if you've got money, you can have a home here."

"So I guess you're taking me to employee orientation?" Hurricane said.

"And brunch," said Solution, "the boss likes to mix it sometimes."

"Sounds interesting."

The elevator stopped at the top floor, and the two mercenaries stepped out. Hurricane allowed Solution to lead the way.

"Not really," Solution said, "don't get me wrong, this is a pretty sweet gig. Steady pay, some action every now and then and no looking over your shoulder for law enforcement."

"But?"

Solution sighed, "But it gets to be routine, after a while. Hell, Mr. Grey's dying is probably the most interesting thing to happen in months."

Hurricane kept a perfect poker face.

"But that's the price of a steady paycheck," Solution said. The two entered another room, overlooking a much larger room below. The floor was transparent glass, and below was a room filled with all kinds of weapons, deadly robots and things Hurricane didn't even have a name for.

Thrill Blade was already waiting for him, his eyes cast towards the floor.

"Hey kid," Hurricane said.

Thrill Blade didn't so much as glance his way.

"…nice," Hurricane shrugged, trying to look indifferent, "so where's Dran at?"

"Down there," Thrill Blade pointed to the room below.

"The boss likes to do a little showing off for new hires," Solution said. He went over, and tapped the glass twice.

Dran nodded, and snapped his fingers.

Hurricane studied the man for a moment. He was middle aged, with a widow's peak and ebony hair. He wore simple work out pants, no shirt, and was as fit as many of the soldiers Hurricane had served with.

"So he's indestructible, like his dad, right?" Hurricane said.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't bring up pops if you want to stay ungutted," Solution said, "he doesn't get along with his old man."

"So he's just indestructible?" Thrill Blade asked, "that's not a lot, no offense. The Hulk can throw a battle ship, some guys can topple a sky scraper with a sneeze. So…he just can't be beaten up?"

The Solution chuckled, "It's a little more than that. You'll see."

A panel slid open in the room below, and three Dreadnaughts armed with gatling guns on their left arm, connected to a drum barrel the size a small car on their back.

"We're behind force field generators," Solution said, "don't worry,"

"Why would we worry?"

"Because those Gatling guns are loaded with adamantium bullets."

"What?!"

Both men dove for cover as the robots below opened fire.

Bullets bounced off of Dran as if they were soft pitched tennis balls, and in the hail of bullets that would have killed an entire team of Avengers, Dran snickered.

Hurricane and Thrill Blade picked themselves up off the floor, and watched in awe as Dran stood there, in a mound of silver bullets.

The hail of fire lasted for a full two minutes. When it was over, Dran brushed the bullets aside, and leapt at the robots.

He tore apart the first one with his bare hands, while the second one bathed him in flames. Dran decapitated that one while the third attempted to strangle him.

Dran tore the arms off the last one, and simply walked away.

"He's got a few tricks going for him," Solution smirked, "even I can't scratch him, and I'm no pushover."

"No you're not," Hurricane and Thrill Blade turned their heads, and saw Dran stroll into the room, a towel over his shoulders, "that was why I hired you, after all."

Hurricane couldn't help but notice how the man's ordinary shorts didn't have so much as a thread out of place. Evidently, his powers beyond just his flesh.

"Gentlemen," Dran nodded to Thrill Blade and Hurricane, "welcome. If you'd follow me, we can have breakfast while we discuss the details of your employment."

The dining room was as opulent as Hurricane had expected. The smell of fresh bacon, French toast and eggs wafted through the air. There was enough food to feed at least dozen people, even though only a handful were actually there eating. Midnight and Weapon Chi were seated at the table, though neither looked as if they were about to take a bite.

Dran, of course, sat at the head of the table, with The Solution at his left, and Thrill Blade across from him.

Hurricane looked at Thrill Blade with a critical eye. The kid looked like he'd barely slept, but Hurricane figured that since the two of them were still alive, the rookie still had his wits about him, at least this far.

"Nice spread," Hurricane said, as he pulled up a chair. He sat down a few feet away from the man he and his team were supposed to kill, and smiled.

Hurricane had briefly entertained the idea of making an attempt now, but knew that demonstration put an end to that idea. More than that, he knew it would cost him his life, and while he was prepared to die for this mission, he considered that a risk, not a priority. Better to get intel and go from there, than half assed murder attempts that could only meet with failure.

"It's a little larger than it needs to be," Dran said, "our cooking staff still has trouble remembering that Mr. Grey is no longer among us..."

Hurricane briefly remembered how he'd put several bullets into the man's skull, among other things.

"You two have some big shoes to fill," Solution said, "literally."

"Can't speak for the rookie, but you won't be disappointed in me," Hurricane said.

"…I wouldn't recommend questioning my sword," Thrill Blade said.

"Good to hear it, both of you," Dran said. He produced two small devises that reminded Hurricane of a garage door-opener, "these are for you."

Thrill Blade took the devise, and looked it over. It reminded him of a pager.

"What is it?"

"Your co-worker, Midnight, is not exactly here willingly," Dran said. Hurricane observed how the cyborg seemed to stew across the table, but remained silent, "when I found him in the rubble of that Secret Empire base and rebuilt him, he gave no thought of returning my charity. To that end, I regret to say that I must take firm measures to ensure that he remains in my employ."

"Measures…" Midnight muttered.

"He's your slave," Hurricane said, "we're all criminals here, no need to mince words."

"He's not a slave, he's an enforcer," Dran said, "and he'll be able to leave my employ in five years time, with compensation, barring the unforeseen. Be warned gentlemen, if you use these devises, you will be held accountable."

"Understood," Hurricane said. He found himself struck by Dran's stern demeanor. Most criminals he knew, who reached his level, thought nothing of abusing those under them, "not a problem."

"Excellent," Dran said, "eat up, gentlemen, and Solution will show you your day to day. I don't know what you gentlemen were expecting, but I promise you, you've never been in place like Hell's Peak before."

oooOOoo

Guns of all different shapes and sizes, from the Glock to the AA-12 to an actual .50 caliber sniper rifle, decorated the wall. There were racks of hand grenades, smoke grenades, tear gas, combat knives, RPGs and countless other weapons.

"I suppose you can guess what room this is, huh?" said Solution.

"Definitely not the bathroom," Hurricane observed.

"I wouldn't say that," said Midnight.

"This is mainly for the Piranhas," Solution said, "but if you ever find yourself backed into a corner, there are several armories located throughout the building, with enough firepower to make the Punisher think twice."

"I'm going to reload, if you don't mind," Hurricane grabbed a few clips for his glocks, and then began loading his shotgun.

"No laser guns?" Thrill Blade said.

"Nah, boss thinks they're too high maintenance, and too ineffective," Solution said. He pointed to a map on the far wall, "that lists all the location of the armories, same pass code as what I gave you."

Hurricane thought it best not to mention that he'd memorized Solution's passcode when they'd entered.

"Understood," Hurricane felt a little confidence return now that he'd been able to restock. Even with his super strength, there was something as reassuring to a former soldier like himself, "so where to next on this grand tour?"

"Dran wants me to show you our…hotspots," Solution said.

"Hotspots?" Thrill Blade said.

"The people most likely to kill you," Midnight said, "and I think we even have an eviction today."

"Well then," Hurricane took his shotgun with one hand, "lead on."

"No need to look cool for us," Midnight said.

oooOOoo

As they approached the first apartment, the air smelled of barbeque and beer, while Free Bird blared on the radio.

The Solution didn't even bother to know, he simply opened the door, and Thrill Blade and Hurricane were greeted by the sight of eight men, all wearing the confederate flag, either on their shirts, belt-buckles or tattooed on their chests.

Guns, bullets, beer bottles and trashy magazines littered the common area, and the stench of sweat and gunpowder was overwhelming.

"Well, déjà all over again," Hurricane said, as he spotted the man who'd been pounding on his door last night.

"So what'd these guys do?" said Thrill Blade.

"Our Minute Men friends here knocked over a US army shipment of experimental super soldier serum," Solution explained.

Hurricane glanced at one of the men, who looked as if he could be the stunt double for The Blob.

"Super soldier serum?"

"That's right!" said one man, "then we done liberated three million in currency from the illegal Federal banks!"

"They're just here until the statue of limitations runs out," Solution said.

"…there is no statue of limitations on grand theft," Hurricane whispered

"Why do you think I'm introducing you?" Solution replied.

"We're freedom fighters, just like Dr. Martin Luther King!" said one of the Minutemen.

"…sure," Hurricane said.

"Hey, Weapon Chi, feel free to come by any time!"

Weapon Chi said nothing.

"Real bunch of winners," Thrill Blade muttered.

oooOOoo

The next room was in stark contrast to the one they'd visited earlier. The common area was spotless, to the point that Hurricane wondered if it was ever used. The occupants, three men and two women, were on the couch. They wore uniforms that reminded Hurricane of track suits, the men and women both. They were utterly unremarkable, to a degree Thrill Blade thought was uncanny.

The three in the middle were playing a racing game, while two were cheering them on. But the second they saw Solution step into the room, they paused their game, and jumped up to greet him.

"Hey Big Brother!" said one of the men, "showing the new guys around?"

"You know it, little guy," Solution said.

Hurricane studied the man for a moment. The Solution was perhaps the definition of arrogance. He strode through the halls, halls filled with monsters and murderers, as if he were the biggest dog in the yard.

Yet here, he was respectful, playful. Hurricane didn't have to be told that there was a connection between him and these people.

"You going to introduce us?" Hurricane said.

"Yeah, hold your horses," Solution said, "gang, meet Thrill Blade and Hurricane. Mr. Grey's replacement…s. Replacements, meet the mimics."

"So sad what happened to him," said one of the women, "he was always so nice, so sweet."

"I hope I'll measure up," Hurricane said politely, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Mimic 4," she said, and it was then that Hurricane noticed the number over her breast pocket, and saw the same on the others.

"So why're you all called mimics?" said Thrill Blade.

The Solution turned to one of the men and smirked, "Show 'em."

"_**Hulk." **_

Both Hurricane and Thrill Blade jumped back when the man before them was suddenly encased in a familiar green, muscle bound armor. It took Hurricane a second to take in what he was seeing.

It was as if someone had transposed the Green Goliath over the man. He saw the Hulk in his purple pants, but the man, Mimic 3, was underneath, as if it were made of glass.

Midnight snickered.

Weapon Chi said nothing.

"And that's why they're called mimics," Solution said.

"You're super adaptoids," Thrill Blade said, "only you don't need the source material, do you?"

"He's a quick one," said Mimic 3. He willed away the gamma muscles, "for someone dressed so stupid."

"…thanks," Thrill Blade scowled, "we'll leave you dorks to your game, now."

"Don't be a stranger, Solution!" said Mimic 1, "we're holding a potluck on Friday, make sure to mark it on your calendar!"

"Yeah, Solution," Midnight snickered, "don't be a stranger."

"…you're lucky Dran docked me two months pay last time I used your pain implant," Solution muttered, as they wound their way through the complex.

They were in the inner ring, when Thrill Blade drifted towards the railing. Like a little kid, he stuck his head over the side, and 'awwed'.

"Hell of a fall," Hurricane muttered.

"Yeah, throw a guy off it and he can get three breathes of screaming before he hits the ground," Solution said, "oddest thing you'll ever hear, don't you think, Weapon Chi?"

Weapon Chi said nothing.

"Anyways, if you're done acting like tourists," Solution said, "I need to introduce you to some more tenants."

The walk wasn't far, and the next room stood in stark contrast to the first.

The only dirt and grime to be found was on a work table situated in the center of the room. Weapons half assembled lay on it, as professional soldier worked on them with experienced hands.

Hurricane glanced around, and saw a door-less room that contained two cots, a crate, and nothing else. That pattern repeated perfectly three times. Spartan was an understatement.

The four men and two women that clearly lived here barely bothered to look up as Solution and company entered. They looked at the new comers, did a private mental assessment and then went back to cleaning their weapons.

Every inch of them screamed soldier. Hurricane didn't need to be a detective to see that. But he was curious about the blue skin.

"These fine people call themselves Special K," Solution said, "Kree special forces on vacation, right fellas?"

Special K said nothing.

"So we're harboring hostile alien forces?" Thrill Blade spat, "what makes you think that's a good idea?"

"What makes you think this is a debate we should be having in front of them?" Midnight muttered.

Special K said nothing.

"Eh, their gold is good," Solution shrugged, "and there'll always be heroes to beat 'em up, right guys?"

Special K said nothing.

"Weapon Chi's kind of people, huh?" Hurricane said as they turned to leave.

Weapon Chi and Special K said nothing.

oooOOoo

Hurricane, trained soldier that he was, did his best to memorize the layout, trying to categorize who was where as Solution introduced them to the tenants who might be trouble down the line.

Ironically, Hurricane was so focused on that, that he genuinely didn't notice the hulking man covered in adamantium until they bumped into one another.

"Watch where you're going," the man known as Cyber growled, as cigar smoke puffed from his jaw.

Hurricane could feel the eyes of his teammates fall on him.

"You're the one who needs to watch out for me," Hurricane snapped, suddenly feeling as if he were back in high school.

He recognized Cyber almost instantly. It was hard to mistake a man with metal skin for someone else, especially given his infamy. But all the same, Hurricane knew he couldn't back down. Like schoolyard bullies, murderous sociopaths took any sign of weakness as an excuse to attack..

The metal murderer studied Hurricane for a few seconds, then finally, Cyber took the cigar from his lips, and smiled.

"I like you. You look at me like you're not afraid for tomorrow. You'll learn."

Hurricane chuckled dismissively. He knew how to get under the skin of men like these, "Champ, you're not even the scariest thing I've seen today. So keep walking, while you still can."

Cyber grunted, and then cast an eye towards Solution.

"See you around, kid," Cyber said, with a grin of promise, "count on it."

"Not all our residents are long term," Solution said, "Cyber's bosses wanted bhim to keep his head down, got something planned. Don't worry, he'll be out of here in a few weeks."

"I'm not worried," Hurricane said, "so what else is on the sideshow?"

Solution motioned for them to follow them to the elevator. Once they were all inside, he punched a special code into the dials.

"This place isn't just for scumbags," Solution said, "sometimes we hold things for clients. Things…you can't exactly put in a bank."

The door opened again, and both Thrill Blade and Hurricane felt a shiver of fear travel down their spine.

The floor was unnaturally silent, the lighting was soft, the air unmoving and barely a thing to be heard, yet there was an unmistakable taste of power in the air. The entire feel of the place reminded Thrill Blade of a crypt.

"Not a lot of guests here. But they are still dangerous" Solution said as he strolled into the hall. He pointed to a door down the hall, marked with a red bio-hazard symbol, "if that door opens, just run. Last time she got out, we lost twenty men. We'll seal off the floor and go from there."

"What's in there?" said Hurricane.

"Not anything you ever want to meet," Midnight said, "just listen to Solution, and leave it alone."

Hurricane and Thrill Blade exchanged a brief glance, both curious as to what could be so horrible as to make Midnight and Solution, two men who hated one another, to so effortlessly agree with one another.

"You guys wanna see something cool, though?" Solution said, "follow me. Hey, Weapon Chi, don't spoil the surprise."

Weapon Chi said nothing.

They climbed the stairs to another level, and were stunned when the floor itself began to tremble.

"No screams," Solution said, "Midnight, you owe me five bucks."

In the distance, Hurricane and Thrill Blade saw the cause of the disturbance.

Thrill Blade gaped at the…thing…bound in the sleek metal chair. He was only two sizes smaller than the Hulk, his wrists were covered in thorn-like protrusions, though that was the limit to what the young mercenary could see. The giant was bound in countless chains, and he doubted they were of regular steel.

Both Hurricane and Thrill Blade watched with baited breath. They expected the thing to at least awake, to try to come at them despite all the restraints. The room shook again, like the rumble of thunder, and it wasn't until the room shook for a third time that both men realized what they were hearing.

"It's snoring…?" Hurricane said.

"No need to whisper," Solution said, "that thing doesn't wake up unless we allow it."

"It's snoring is shaking a concrete, steel reinforced floor," Thrill Blade said, "what can it do awake?"

"I'm with the rookie, what is that thing?"

"That? That's what happens when RAID dabbles in genetics and doesn't want to throw away the results. Just keep your fingers away, kid."

"Not a problem," Thrill Blade gripped his sword tighter despite all personal efforts not to.

"Good," Solution said. He led them away, "enough sight-seeing, rookies. We got us an eviction to handle."

oooOOoo

Thrill Blade unsheathed his sword.

Hurricane pumped his shotgun.

Weapon Chi drew her sais.

Midnight channeled a pulse of electricity into his clawed hands.

Solution yawned.

Behind the mercenaries were twenty of Dran's regular, uniform soldiers known as the piranhas.

"You going to give us a briefing, or do we just kill whoever's behind that door?"

"Whomever," Solution corrected, "not much to tell. They're entitled little rich kids who paid to be vampires. Their code of conduct has violated Dran's rules."

"How so?" Hurricane said.

"Kidnapping women and not being gentlemen," Solution said, "it doesn't matter what you did before here, but Dran likes to keep it PG 13 here."

Thrill Blade raised an eyebrow, "PG-13 here? Really?"

"Have you seen what they get away with in movies these days?" said Solution, "I mean seriously, the violence in PG movies now is worse than what they had in rated R movies in the 80s and 90s!"

"…I think we're getting off point," Hurricane said, "how do we do this?"

"Hard and fast," Solution said, "they're little more than a bunch of entitled punks who wanted to make their own gang. We put them on the ground, and the boys make sure they don't get up again."

"Nice and simple plan," Hurricane said, "you knock."

"With pleasure."

The steel door exploded inward, and Solution rushed through with an animalistic grin. Midnight, Thrill Blade, and Weapon Chi rushed in after them. Hurricane hesitated for a few seconds before stepping through.

The Solution was right about the vampires, pasty white skin, claws and fangs, but that wasn't what Hurricane cared about.

He shot the first vampire that came at him in the head, and observed his teammates at work.

The Solution was literally glowing, every time he struck a vampire, their flesh sizzled like a steak on a grill.

Weapon Chi moved like the wind, her steel slashing throats as easily as they cut through the air. The vampires reached and lunged for her like feral animals, and she danced around them as if they weren't even there.

Midnight was an entirely different creature. He moved with force and precision, favoring heavy blows to the midsection. He reminded Hurricane of a linebacker, relying on a combination of speed and strength to get the job done.

Thrill Blade was still the wild dog that Hurricane remembered. He hadn't expected it to change, not really, but seeing it in action again, knowing that his only back up against three skilled, professional super powered killers was a rage filled rookie, made his stomach clench.

"Hey, new guy," Midnight shouted. Hurricane turned, and saw the cyborg's hand, smoldering with power, and leveled at him, "wake up!"

A bolt of energy flew from Midnight's hand, and struck the vampire that had been clinging to the ceiling, and was moments away from lunging for Hurricane himself.

"Thanks," Hurricane said. He realized that if he didn't stop analyzing, and get in the fight, he'd end up dead or worse, "just getting over a sense of déjà vu."

Three vampires came at Hurricane, and in one fluid motion he pulled his sidearm, and put one bullet in each of their mouths. They fell to the ground screaming, and Hurricane stepped into the room.

He looked around for more targets, but saw that of the nearly two dozen vampires that had once lived here, all of them were either dead or fighting for their lives.

And after he noticed that, he observed a pile of female bodies, stacked in the center of the room, all in various states of undress. His lip curled in disgusted, and secretly Hurricane wished tat he'd killed a few more.

"Well, that was fun," Solution brushed the dust from his hands, and then slapped Hurricane on the back, "you didn't have to leave them all for us, you know."

"Hey, you survived," Hurricane said with a shrug, "not like me and Thrill Blade didn't pull double duty only yesterday, asshole."

"Ha! Fair enough," Solution said, "come with me, rookie. I've got one last thing to do before we officially punch out for the day."

oooOOoo

Hurricane tried not to breathe a sigh of relief when they entered the room, and found Warcry sitting patiently for them.

"I heard you were African," Solution said.

"I am," Warcy drawled, "is that a problem?"

"Not at all. Now, about your quarters…"

Hurricane watched as Solution transformed from a cocky bruiser, to an actually half decent real estate agent. He explained the terms of Warcry's rent, the expectations, how she'd go about her day to day if she didn't want to leave the compound and a million other small little things that came hand in hand in living in a place like this.

Finally came the magic words Hurricane was waiting for.

"My associate will take you to your room. Down the hall, hang a right, then three doors down," Solution said, "I'll send someone by in an hour to help you with living arraignments."

"Thank you," Warcry said. She picked up her bags, and was about to leave, when Solution spoke.

"Oh, Warcry? I don't have to remind you that all grudges are for outside these walls, do I?"

"…you do not," Warcry muttered.

""Good," Solution said, "punishments for assaulting fellow tenants include summary execution, selling your corpse to the highest bidder and loss of security deposit."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do," Solution said with a polite nod, "and enjoy your stay."

As they walked down the hall, Warcry discreetly reached into one of her bags, and removed what anyone passing by might have mistaken for a simple Ipod. In reality, it was a Shield devise created to fool any eavesdroppers or directional microphones that might be pointed their way. All anyone else would hear would be a pre-recorded conversation, recorded before the mission itself.

"So what's the situation on the ground?" asked Warcry, "make any new friends?"

"Maybe. Solution did ask me to join him for dinner. But I may have something more useful than a friend," Hurricane removed the devise Dran had given him for dealing with Midnight from his pocket, "an asset. Our speculation that Dran was keeping Midnight in check with a mobile nerve activator was right, though I'm in no hurry to test it."

"Why, your three Cs code?" Warcry said dismissively, "do you honestly think that your precious code actually matters?"

"My code matters to me," Hurricane said.

"And only to you," Warcry said, "don't think that just because you don't pull a trigger, you haven't killed civilians."

"We can discuss philosophy later," Hurricane said, "what's important now is that we now have three people inside of Dran's operation…"

On the top floor, Damian Dran sat at his desk, the computer monitor connected the security camera that was observing Hurricane and Warcry. His personal assistant, Andi Hunter, stood, watching the feed over his shoulder, smoldering the entire time.

"…and he has no idea."

Next issue: The Dogs of War are unleashed


End file.
